


Renaissance and Resurrection

by Foxienonymous



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Anxiety, Banter, Battle-Related Violence, Canonic Liberties, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Nightmares, Possible Prophetic Dreams, Self-Doubt, Sexual Tension, What Happens if Link Doesn't Remember Her?, shameless flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 09:25:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 30,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14952008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Foxienonymous/pseuds/Foxienonymous
Summary: Despite her work to foster peace and usher in a new day for Hyrule, Zelda finds herself navigating the world without her appointed knight and struggling to put feelings of self-doubt to bed, several years after putting an end to Calamity Ganon.





	1. Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> After finishing BOTW, I was really intrigued by what it would look like if Link had rushed right in to defeat Calamity Ganon and save Zelda before recovering most (almost all?) of his memories; specifically, what that would do to Zelda over the course of the following years. 
> 
> I've taken some, ah, creative liberties. This is the first fic I've posted (and I'm a mostly technical writer), so be gentle -- and enjoy! :-)

She sat on the edge of the tower’s balcony, legs crossed, gazing across the desert as far as she could. The moon and stars reflected off of the sand and left the landscape awash in an ethereal glow. She pulled the hood of her feather-packed tunic down, and wrapped her arms tightly around her waist, shifting a little in an attempt to stay warm. She contemplated rekindling the fire that had died out a little while ago, but decided against it: in this moment, she didn’t want to do anything that might disturb the view.

She carefully draped her legs over the ledge of the platform and leaned forward a little, considering the drop. The walls of the tower were webbed in nature and made of strong stone and metal, which made for a relatively easy climb, but still: she couldn’t see the bottom of the crevice the tower was built into, and it had taken her a solid three hours to scale after gliding in from the surrounding rock trails. There were platforms jutting out from the walls around the tower in two clusters toward the top, allowing the tower’s balcony to be accessed from within, the openings protected on three sides by stone rails. They offered some respite to those looking to take in the amazing view, but only the most dedicated would make it to the top.

Despite the outrageously warm Rito tunic and leggings she wore, the cold at this height was more unforgiving than she anticipated. She knew desert nights could be brisk, but she didn’t expect the Sheikah tower, which was on the edge of the desert, not in the snowy Gerudo Highlands, could be this cold. She rolled her ankles and leaned back, bracing herself with outstretched arms behind her. 

“I knew I saw a light from below.”

She jumped at the familiar voice, startled only for a moment. She dropped her head back to look at the Gerudo man standing behind her. With his massive frame, full beard, lopsided grin, and hood pulled low to effectively shield his eyes, he was intimidating visually, easily seven and a half feet tall with shoulders and chest as broad as a barn. She knew him to be capable of great harm, although he rarely had the will for it.

Pushing back the hood of his own snowquill set, Eldin Dragmire tossed his mane-like auburn hair and tightened the lacing at the neck of his tunic, turning the hood into more of a scarf and closing the gap at the chest to better shield his deep russet skin from the biting cold. A smile played at the edge of his lips as he glanced at the remnants of her fire, all but forgotten under the tower’s pillars. 

Crossing to it and pulling a bundle of wood from his bag of holding, he mused, “Did you get all the way up here only to run out of flint, Zelda? No way to make sparks fly?” 

He snapped his fingers to produce a flame at the tips of them, igniting the wood. He shed the enormous sword and shield that had been strapped to his back, dropped them by the fire, then moved over to her. She rolled her eyes as he settled down to her right, mimicking her own pose. 

“Show off,” she said, giving him a playful poke to the ribs. “You and your magic tricks.”

He smiled wide, swatting at her hand and turning his gold-flecked eyes to her green ones. “Come on, you prude, they’re useful. I guess I just hate the cold more than you do. Maybe you are content to sit here in the dark and freeze to death, but that’s not really on my docket tonight.”

Zelda drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms high around them, tilting her head to the side to rest it on her left arm. She had to admit that the fire felt great at her back, and she wasn’t too upset about the company as she regarded him, briefly reflecting on how dead-on his mother had been in naming him, what with his size, fondness for heat, and chiseled features. 

She laughed a little bit in spite of herself and turned her attention back to the landscape. “Well, I appreciate it. I was so caught up in the view that I couldn’t tear myself away.”

“I can understand that,” he said thoughtfully. 

She could feel his eyes on her as he said it, and she blushed. “All the same, I’d be remiss if I didn’t at least point out that I am perfectly capable of starting a fire on my own.”

He scooted a little closer to her, his voice dropping just a little bit. “I’m very well aware of that, Zelda.”

She breathed in sharply and gave him the best put-upon side eye she could muster. “Oh, please, don’t tell me that line works on any of the Hylian women you meet.”

His hand flew to his chest as he leaned away from her, feigning offense. 

“I would never. Imagine, a member of the Gerudo auxiliary guard dropping lines on and flirting with beautiful Hylian vai. In all my years, I have never had such an accusation hurled in my direction.” 

He worked hard to keep a straight face, but she could see his eyes brimming with mirth. 

She snorted and raised her hands in apology. “Okay, okay, my mistake. Perhaps the rumors of your penchant for charming and ravishing Hylian women are over exaggerated…”

At this, he laughed, a deep, roaring belly laugh. She found herself feeling warmer, chuckling along herself.

“Please,” he said, swiping the air dismissively with one hand before leaning back again and staring out across the desert. “Rumors.”

After a beat of silence, he looked at her sidelong. “…Are there really rumors about me?”

At this, Zelda snorted again, and shook her head at him. “Goodness, Dragmire…. Do you really want to know?”

“Well,” he started, tilting his head side to side as if weighing the pros and cons.

She sat up again, and rolled onto her side closer to him. Her legs were bent, running along the edge of the tower, her knees just barely brushing up against the side of his left leg. She leaned up to his ear and into him, taking a slow, deep breath near his skin. From the way he shifted, she knew he felt it.

In a dramatic, husky voice, she whispered, “’Oh, that Gerudo swordsman…. He’s so dreamy... And insatiable…’”

“Go on,” he said, holding perfectly still, gaze fixed toward the southernmost part of the desert.

“’His voice… sounds as if the goddess herself created it…’” she continued, letting her delivery become more heated, but softer as her lips just barely brushed his ear. “’One word from him, and you can’t think of anyone else...’”

He made a non-committal noise in his throat, and Zelda took that as an invitation to proceed.

“’And his strength…’” she was slightly panting now, laying it on thick. “’If he gets his hands on you, all you can do is…’” He stayed rooted to the spot he was as she feigned a low, sultry moan into his ear.

At which point she flopped onto her back in a fit of laughter herself that made her eyes water.

She opened her eyes when he started clapping, slowly. She dabbed at the tears, still giggling. He had a strange smile on his face, one eyebrow raised, shaking his head a little.

“You called me a prude – that’s on you.” She sighed, beaming. “What else could I do but get you all worked up?”

“You know, Princess, that sense of humor of yours is going to get you into trouble one of these days.”

She sobered at his use of her title, and rolled her eyes again. Not long after they had met, Dragmire had made an offhand comment about how royal women should probably behave, and that she was unlike any royal woman he’d ever known.

The problem was that she really was unlike any royal woman, and she hated being reminded of that fact. It wasn’t her fault that 100 years of holding Calamity Ganon at bay had dulled her sense of decorum, not that she’d had a whole lot to begin with. She’d spent her youth chasing an idea of what she should have been, what she was told she should be. She’d had many sleepless nights since the fall of the Great Calamity replaying the mistakes of her youth. Zelda often found herself awake, wondering if her knight would have remembered her when the battle was over had she been warmer to him earlier in their relationship. Maybe the whole war could have been avoided if she had stumbled upon her magic sooner.

With these thoughts rattling around in her brain, it was understandable that she might be just a little bit bitter and maybe even slightly jealous of the ease with which Dragmire and the other Gerudo flexed their magical prowess. After a hundred years of constant fighting and near straight use, her abilities still didn’t come easy and were a bear to control, save for small things. She found it especially true now that she and her appointed knight had parted ways. 

After that final battle, they had traveled to Hateno village, staying in a house he had purchased and fixed up after waking. She had rested for a few days before engaging with him and had been heartbroken to realize that although he’d remembered some things from life before, he did not remember being more than the hero charged with saving Hyrule and her protector. 

He didn’t remember their friendship, their conversations, and the connection between them. Nonetheless, a deep sense of duty had prompted him to offer to accompany her when she decided to start traveling and begin what was going to be a lengthy rebuild of Hyrule castle and the surrounding town. 

All of the great love songs and stories she remembered from her childhood gave the (probably foolish) advice that if you loved someone, you had to let them go to find their own path. With that in mind, she released him from her service, and set out on her own, leaving him with the Sheikah Slate in hopes that he might recover more of his memories.

Word of the fall of Calamity Ganon seemed to reach various areas long before she did, and while did not believe that she was the same Zelda said to have died 100 years before, the village leaders accepted her role in its downfall and heir to the throne with a little encouragement from Impa. She went to visit each of them, to check on the Devine Beasts, dormant once again now that their champions’ spirits had departed. She was welcomed, and found that each leader was moved in her pitch for assistance in rebuilding Hyrule as a more diverse and bustling place than it had ever been, whether they thought her to be the Zelda of legend or not.

Her last stop on this initial tour had been to see Lady Riju and the Gerudo. She liked Riju very much, and they got on like the proverbial house on fire. Zelda and the young ruler found that they had a lot in common, especially when it came to the pressure of leading and providing for a people looking to them for guidance. 

Riju had offered any assistance Zelda needed, especially where reforming the Hyrule castle forces were concerned. Teake, captain of the Gerudo guard, had helped to develop a recruitment plan and suggested that Zelda borrow some of her own soldiers to implement the task. Dragmire was among the soldiers tapped by Teake to eventually travel to Hyrule castle to run training. Gerudo men had become somewhat less uncommon in the intervening century between Zelda’s last visit and now: several of them trained with the guard and were then dispatched to the Gerudo highlands, usually running interference with what was left of the thieves of the Yiga Clan. 

Dragmire was striking, even in Gerudo terms, and she found herself drawn to him for some reason. He seemed to take quite an interest in her, as well, and although he was certainly not her travel companion, he seemed to pop up in many of the places she found herself in.

She wasn’t exactly put off by that.

After a beat of silence, she sighed and sat up, feet dangling over the edge. She dropped her gaze toward the base of the tower again, marveling at the height. 

“Forgive me for asking,” Dragmire started softly, “but how is it that I always seem to find you on your own?”

She shrugged with one shoulder, still contemplating the height, their distance to the inky darkness the tower disappeared into. 

“I’m not sure… I really only have the patience for people in small bursts now, I think. It’s always been easier for me to handle being on my own or with one or two people at a time. And there have been so many parties lately – completely understandable, we have so much to celebrate! – but I find it so draining…”

She leaned back again, bracing herself on her palms behind her. Dragmire matched her position, his hand coming to rest right up against her own. Neither moved away, despite the contact.

“But it sounds to me like you spent a lot of time with the Champions. That was a sizable group,” he reasoned. Having heard stories about Urbosa and Zelda passed on from village elders, he had confided in her that there was no doubt in his mind that she was the same Zelda fabled to have died sealing Calamity Ganon a hundred years ago. She had demurred, unwilling to confirm out loud for anyone that didn’t already know her that she was one in the same, but it did little to change Dragmire’s mind.

Something in her in that moment made her want to give him the validation he was so obviously fishing for, but she decided against it.

She felt tears at the back of her eyes at the mention of her dear lost friends but knew she wouldn’t be able to cry. She hadn’t been able to mourn them or the loss of her life before the calamity since returning, what with so many responsibilities vying for her attention. “Going back to Hyrule… I doubt I’ll find myself with much alone time.”

Based on letters she had received from Impa and Paya, the careful direction of Bolson and his building crew was yielding solid results faster than anticipated, and it was without a doubt time for her to head back to the nearly-completed castle to take the throne and lead Hyrule into a new golden age.

He waited a moment to see if she would say anything else. When she didn’t, he said softly, “I can go if you want to be alone. I hate to think that I’m imposing on you.” 

Zelda let her palm twist a little toward him, her fingers lacing over his gloved ones. “No, you are certainly not imposing on me.”

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. She was feeling so strange here with him, calm but humming with a weird energy. 

Dragmire chuckled a little after a few moments. “It’s cold as a witch’s tit up here. I don’t know why you would choose the top of this tower, of all places, to be alone. Goddesses, you could freeze to death and no one would know.”

She found herself giggling, appreciating his attempt at levity. Rolling her head toward him, she raised an eyebrow. “…Says the Gerudo who came up here of his own accord.” She was smiling broadly, suddenly aware of how cold her nose and the tips of her ears were.

“Well,” he started, reaching up and stretching dramatically, his left arm coming down to rest along her shoulders. “I saw the fire, then I didn’t see it, and I thought to myself, ‘Eldin, there could be some poor frozen damsel up there who might be in need of your body heat to bring her back to life’. I mean, who am I to turn down a heroic act like that?”

He gave her shoulder a squeeze, pulling her into him gently. He was extremely warm, which felt wonderful considering the temperature. She found herself at odds: she wanted to snuggle in closer, maybe see where this went, but she knew that would be an unseemly choice for a Hylian princess, especially with Dragmire as, in all honesty, his reputation as a skirt-chaser did precede him. 

“Heroic act?” she repeated, grinning and opting to nestle closer to him for the warmth of it. “It seems a little self-serving to me.”

She found her stomach doing little flips as he tightened his grip on her a little, his hand starting to methodically rub up and down her arm. It had been more than two years, almost three, since she had taken leave of Hateno Village. She had given most men a wide berth while nursing some very hurt feelings, although she’d gone through a few weeks of being less than careful with her body. Several after setting out, she left a very forward young man with a broken nose to rival her broken heart when he had gotten a little too close to her (and, in all honesty, a might bit handsy) during a stay at Woodland Stable. She regretted the move a later, when she realized that she actually could have used the company, though maybe not from someone as boorish and drunk.

Even so, it was hard to believe that the light touch on her arm coming from this a mountain of a man was having such an effect on her, generating a heat low in her body. She dropped her head to the side, laying it against his chest, looking out at the desert and the stars.

“And here I am thinking that it’s pragmatic.” He chuckled, and she enjoyed the vibration. “I mean, I’m barely equipped for the cold, and I’m already out here. It would be just as much for my benefit as any helpless vure.”

She sighed, trying to calm her nerves, knowing that a breath wouldn’t do it. Listening to the methodical thumping of his heart and breathing, she felt her eyelids getting heavy. She realized it had been more than a week since she had slept fitfully, and that had been while sleeping in a tree.

Zelda cleared her throat and pushed herself off of him softly, feeling his hand drop from her shoulder to her back. 

“I, um…” She rubbed her eyes, hand coming to rest on her forehead, looking down just a little bit. “I’m exhausted.”

He laughed, eyes glittering. “Of course you are. It’s the middle of the night. Were you actually planning on sleeping up here?”  
“Mm-hm.”

“Alone.”

“Yes,” she replied, trying not to laugh. “I can take care of myself up here.”

“Without a fire? Are you crazy?” He pulled his feet up from the edge, a grin playing at the side of his mouth as she stood and stretched. “You know I can’t in good conscience let you sleep here unguarded. Teake would have my head if she found out, much less have me thrown out of the guard.”

She considered this while she moved closer to the fire, pulled more wood from her own bag of holding and threw a few logs on, building it back up. Diving back into the bag, she started looking for blankets or a sleeping roll, speaking to him over her shoulder.

“She might be quite upset if she found out you spent the whole night with a Hylian…” She paused for a beat, then muttered, “Not that it would be the first time.”

She heard him choke on air behind her as she found the bedding roll she was looking for and stretched it out alongside the fire. By the time she was done piling the blankets and bedding together, it looked practically nest-like.

When she turned around to face him and sat atop the nest-bed, he was sitting across from her with his back against one of the railings, shaking his head slowly at her. 

“I won’t let you besmirch my good name. I’m a perfect gentleman.” 

“Huh…” She said, tilting her head, eyeing him carefully, slowly unzipping and pulling off her boots. “So, despite the cold, you would sit all the way over there while I slept. In the interest of being a perfect gentleman.”

He nodded. “As much as it would pain me to let a beautiful woman sleep alone and cold, if that’s what you believe a perfect gentleman to be, I’ll stay right here.”

“Oh, to have that kind of will-power,” she mused, smoothing her clothes.

“Who said I needed will-power?” He shot back, eyebrow raised in a challenge. 

Taking him up on it, Zelda slunk onto all fours and crawled back over to him slowly, the palms of her hands freezing against the stone of the platform. He looked a little surprised, and she knew she was teasing him effectively. He sat incredibly still as she came up to his face, coming up on her knees to meet him eye-to-eye, staring him down from inches away. 

She broke the staring contest first, laughing and sitting back on her heels just in front of him.

He joined in her laughter and stood, taking her hands in his gloved ones, bringing her to her feet as her laughter gave way to the giggles. She allowed him to, trying to stand tall in front of him, which wasn’t remotely intimidating, as she was easily two feet shorter than he was.

Looking down at her hands dwarfed in his, she felt her stomach doing somersaults again. She shivered, most likely from the cold, but quite possibly from the excitement of being near him. When he dropped her hands, she found that she was disappointed, but only for a moment, as he removed his gloves, taking her hands back in his. They were so warm, it was as if he was carrying the heat of the desert sun with him. She pulled her eyes away from their hands and peered up at his face as their laughter died away to a companionable silence. He was looking at her seriously, intently, and before she could think to make a snarky comment, his lips were on hers. Shocked, she closed her eyes, her breath knocked out of her. 

Zelda’s hands were suddenly pressed against his chest as he brought one hand up to her cheek, his other wrapping around her waist. He pulled back from her slowly, looking over her face for any kind of displeasure. She could feel herself blushing, but she slid a hand up to his neck and dove back in, her lips meeting his with their own fire. Her fingers found his hair, twisting in it as his tongue slipped past her lips to taste her. She had a fleeting thought that his beard was significantly softer than it looked.

She wouldn’t have been able to say exactly how long they stood there, wrapped up in each other, before she needed air and gave him a gentle push back. Taking a step backwards toward the fire, she smoothed her hair and regarded him carefully. He stretched up to his full height, rolling his shoulders back, his eyes locked on her face.

“I’m sorry,” he offered, just above a whisper. “I’ve wanted to do that for ages, since we first crossed paths.” 

He seemed so earnest that she reached for him as she sunk down onto the bedding. He caught her hand and followed, allowing her to settle on the makeshift bed before pulling off his shirt and balling it up to use as a pillow. He stretched out alongside her, slipping one arm under her head to make up for the pillow she didn’t have. 

He ran his fingers down the side of her face and kissed her again, gently. Smirking, he whispered, “You know, for a princess, you sure don’t believe in bringing the comforts of home with you.” 

She rolled her eyes at him again, giving his chest a shove. “If you’re so uncomfortable, you can always head back to town.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His lips were on hers again, devouring her, his free hand pulling her closer to him. His leg slipped between hers, and she wrapped her top leg around his waist. Pressed up against him with the fire at her back, she felt as if she were laying on the desert sand at high noon. She was so distracted by his kisses, by the way his tongue reached out to hers, that she scarcely noticed when he rolled her onto her back, and his hands pushed her snowquill tunic halfway up her torso in order to run his hands along the bare skin of her sides and stomach.

Her hands were buried in his hair, keeping his face to hers as she drank in his kisses. For a fleeting moment, she realized that the position they were in was quite compromising, but it felt so good to have him pressed up against her, her feet set on either side of him. 

His lips moved away from hers and down her neck, making her gasp softly. When he moved up her neck to nibble at her ear, her hips rose against him almost of their own volition. Every time she moved, she felt those butterflies moving lower and lower until she couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped her lips. His left hand slid down her side, under her bottom to pull her leg back up around his waist. Her moans made him bolder, and he started shifting his hips a little faster against her own. 

She felt lightheaded, something she hadn’t in a long time, until a sharp pang in her stomach pulled her attention. Guilt. She reached down to pull her tunic back into place, moving one of her legs between them. In doing so, she felt him breathe in sharply by her ear.  
He pushed himself up to give her more room, eyes scanning her face. He looked a little confused.

She smiled up at him gently, her hand coming to his cheek, hoping that her smile hid the sadness she knew was creeping up on her.

“I really am exhausted,” she said, sliding out from under him. “Pretty sure I’m not in the best frame of mind for something like this at the moment.”

He dropped onto his side between her and the fire, giving her a little shrug and a small grin before sliding his shirt under his head. “Hey, I’m not here to make you do anything you don’t want to do. Just here to keep you company. No hard feelings.”

He considered his own words for a second, before chuckling to himself. “Well, maybe ‘hard’ is a bad way to – hey!”

In the middle of his musing, she threw a corner of one of the blankets over his face, giggling. He moved the blanket away as she rolled onto her side, her back to him. She scooted closer to him as he slid an arm under her head again, wrapping the other around her waist and holding her to him as she pulled her legs up to curl into a semi-fetal position.

“This is okay, right?” she asked, turning her head to look up at him.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead and nodded. “Of course, Zelda. Of course.”

She settled down, turning her attention to the skyline again, sighing softly. It wasn’t long before Dragmire’s breathing slowed and he began snoring softly against the back of her head; she was envious of the ease with which he’d fallen asleep. Her eyes felt heavy, but her brain was buzzing, interior monologue shouting at her about all of the missteps she’d made, today and all of the days before. Turning her attention to the sound of his snoring, she realized she was grateful for it as she lost herself in the rhythm and fell asleep.

 

Zelda didn’t know how long she had been lying with her head on his chest when she woke up. Dragmire’s arms were wrapped around her, blankets pulled up past her shoulders; she had obviously shifted at some point during the night into their current position. She blinked slowly and turned her head toward the fire, now barely a few smoldering embers. Looking up, she could see the very beginning of dawn attempting to creep over the mountains to the east. She knew she had to get up and get going if she wanted to make it back to Hyrule within the next few days. She could avoid any awkwardness if she got away before her current bedfellow awoke, which seemed to be a plus.

While trying to figure out if it was worth leaving the blankets and sneaking down the tower without waking him, she felt Dragmire stir below her.

He took a deep breath, one hand finding her braid and stroking it slowly, the other dipping to rest on the small of her back.

“Sa’votta,” he said sleepily, yawning, eyes still closed. “How long was I out?”

She shrugged, snuggling down into him, resigned to enjoy his heat if she couldn’t sneak away from him. “Not sure… It looks like it’s just about dawn now.”

“Oh... So, we have at least another six hours to snooze,” he said quietly. “Or to do other things...” She felt him shift again. “…before we set out for Hyrule.”

“We?” She asked, turning her eyes up to his face.

“Mm-hmm,” he muttered, yawning again, ghost of a smile playing on his lips. “We. Teake’s sending me with you.”

His eyes snapped open. 

“Did I not mention that last night?”

The way she raised her eyebrow at him let him know that, no, he had not mentioned that. For a moment, she dreaded how awkward this trip was going to be. But she forgot all about it when he started to stroke her lower back. 

“Well…” He started, letting his eyelids drop slowly again. “At least now you don’t need to worry about how to make sparks fly.”


	2. How to Return Home

Coming down from the Gerudo Tower was going to be a lot easier than climbing it had been. Not long after Dragmire had fallen back to sleep and the sun started its climb into the sky, Zelda slipped out from under the blankets and changed quickly into clean black leggings, Hylian tunic, and hood. She pulled her boots on quietly and began packing up her things, trying not to disturb Dragmire.

She lingered by his sword, back to him, examining the detail in the hilt as she shook her hair out of its braid and began re-plaiting it. It appeared to be made of a bright, highly-polished silver, the grip consisting of three fluted sections stemming from a guard that curved out and curled back toward the blade. The scabbard it was resting in was dark and much more angular: the locket’s edges were sharp bronze details, carried throughout the rest of the scabbard as if the bronze were roots taking hold at the chape, which flared out instead of mimicking what she assumed was the point of the blade it held. It looked like something the average Hylian would need two hands to wield, but she knew from watching him train that Dragmire needed only one. 

The shield lying next to the sword, she noticed, was not part of a matching set. She shook her head, grinning, as she recognized it to be a Lynel shield. She glanced over her shoulder at him, wondering at his sleeping form. Of course he had a Lynel shield… and he probably had quite the story to go with it.

The Gerudo were fabulous storytellers in their own right, albeit not as musically inclined as the Rito. Zelda had been lucky enough to be regaled with tales from many of the Gerudo women at a celebration thrown by Riju during her most recent stay, mostly about epic battles that had been fought and won. She had slipped away when the storytelling evolved into drunken carousing and dancing, relocating to the stairwell off of the throne room leading to third floor sleeping quarters. Zelda was sitting atop the wall, looking out onto the palms that waved in the slight night breeze, lost in memories of Urbosa and her life before, when Dragmire came to stand beside her.

“Sav’saaba, Princess,” he’d said, “Beautiful night, now that the oppressive heat has worn off.”

She’d hummed in agreement. “It certainly is. Although, I find I quite enjoy the heat during the day. It’s a nice change from what I’m used to.”

“Warm, but not as prone to combustion as the weather you experienced while visiting the Gorons, I assume?” He had grinned at her then.

She’d actually laughed. “No, I suppose it isn’t.”

“I would have thought you might share some of your own stories earlier. I was hoping we would get to hear from you.” He folded his arms on the top of the wall and let his weight rest on them, looking over his shoulder at her.

“Oh, no,” she replied, shaking her head and blushing. “For one thing, there are few happy endings in the few battles I’ve witnessed first-hand. Second, I’m no great warrior. Third, and probably most importantly, I’m no great storyteller. I can’t craft a phrase or hold the room the way your people do. It would be an insult to the whole evening.”

He shook his head, chuckling. “Don’t short yourself, Princess. I’m sure you have many fascinating stories to tell. And, keep in mind, not all of the Gerudo are cut from the same cloth: while some of us could perform a recipe for dry toast that would engage the most difficult audience, there are plenty of us who cannot.” 

She considered that a moment. “I hope you aren’t counting yourself among those that lack the skill of oration.”

At this, he’d laughed full on, standing tall and slapping the wall. “No, no, I wouldn’t. Is it that obvious?”

They were interrupted by Buliara at that moment, who encouraged Dragmire to return to the barracks and returned Zelda to the party. While escorting Zelda back to her seat beside Riju, Buliara had been sure to mention Dragmire’s reputation as a Casanova, especially when installed at Kara Kara Bazaar or the Gerudo Canyon Stable where he interacted with women of all kinds on a regular basis.

She’d known that before Buliara had informed her. She first met Dragmire months earlier during her initial journey out to the desert. She had let Riju know she was on her way to discuss the coming rebuild, and Riju had insisted that Teake meet and escort her from Gerudo Canyon Stable to Gerudo Town. Zelda had arrived at the stable earlier than planned, the night before she had anticipated.

Dragmire had been stationed there, and had no idea who Zelda was when he approached her to find out “what such a beautiful vai was doing in such a dusty place.” She had hardly been able to keep her face from betraying her annoyance, but she managed to be polite and brushed off his advances. She felt, more than knew, that he was harmless where she was concerned, even with his imposing exterior, and although her powers were challenging to reach all the time, she found she could at least tap into them when it counted.

She considered telling him who she was when he revealed himself to be a Gerudo soldier, but decided against it as she had grown accustomed to the anonymity being effectively dead for 100 years had granted her. With the Gerudo being the last faction to touch base with, she could pass quietly among everyday people and not be recognized until she was ready, and she had a feeling she would miss that once the time came for her to return to the kingdom as ruler. 

On that occasion, despite Zelda making it very clear that she was not looking for company, Dragmire was undeterred in asking about her journey: where she was coming from, where she was going to, did she have a husband somewhere who might come after him for chatting her up. She was taken aback at the last question and laughed sincerely for the first time in the six months since the Calamity had been slayed, which she found endeared him to her almost immediately.

She explained to him that she was a botanist and was out surveying, documenting, and collecting plants from all the different regions. Before she knew it, she was chattering on and on about the useful properties of Gerudo desert plants, and how underutilized voltfruit was in other regions. When she realized that he had been patiently listening to her for a solid five minutes, she’d blushed and apologized: it had been so long since she’d had anyone to talk to about such mundane things, she’d sort of gotten lost in it, and chided herself mentally for it. He told her not to apologize, that everyone has something they’re interested in, and that he liked hearing her talk about it. 

It was several hours of deep conversation before Zelda excused herself to go to sleep, but she laid awake, wondering if keeping such a chaste existence was really serving her. 

When Teake arrived the following morning, Zelda had just finished burning her eggs under the watchful gaze of Dragmire, who gently ribbed her about her cooking skills. His face when Teake said “I see you’ve already met Princess Zelda!” was priceless: he turned red as a chili pepper, and looked as if he had eaten a whole bushel of them. 

She smiled, reflecting on their encounters. It was true that he always seemed to find her when she was attempting to be alone, and his positive, easy-going personality made it impossible for her to send him away.

Sighing, Zelda collected her bow and quiver from where she’d left them leaning against the podium at the center of the tower the previous evening and moved to the southern-facing edge, standing in the break and leaning her hip against the railing. She closed her eyes and tried to figure out what she was feeling: she thought that she should feel ashamed for her behavior – after all, she hardly believed her ancestors engaged in sharing their beds with men before marriage, even if nothing had happened – but she couldn’t muster it. Breathing deeply, she decided that all she was feeling in this moment was a little sadness. After all, the only love affair she had thought of for a hundred years was one with her knight, with... him. She had imagined weeks where they would reacquaint themselves with each other, emotionally and, well, otherwise. She thought this would be different, and the hope that he would be with her through the rebuild helped her keep her strength for a century.

She coped with the loss by constantly moving, constantly planning, but she allowed herself a few moments to dwell.   
She was shaken out of her reverie by massive arms and a blanket wrapping around her, Dragmire’s chin coming to rest on the top of her head.

“Good morning, Princess… About to fly the coop without me?” he asked, chuckling a little at the idea.

“Oh, of course not,” she replied lightly, tilting her head to the side to try to look at him, hoping that he believed her. That would make for an awkward journey. “I was just awake, and thought I’d get a jump on the day.” 

She wriggled out of his grip, turning to face him, her back to the south. He was quite disheveled, hair less of a regal mane and more of a roughed-up mess, puffing out at all angles, his body wrapped in one of her blankets, bare toes tapping the floor. Her hand flew to her mouth to try to stifle a laugh, but she snorted anyway.

He scowled. “Look, not everyone can start the day looking fresh as a daisy like your royal highness.” He palmed at his hair as he turned around toward his things, moving back to the bedding that was almost as ruffled as he was. He looked over his shoulder at her, checking that she was still watching him, before dropping the blanket into the pile.

She inhaled sharply as she took in the wall of muscle in front of her: his back was sculpted as if made of marble, with long, thin scars of varying age crisscrossing his shoulder blades haphazardly. The scars seemed to cross over to the backs of his arms. When her eyes dipped low enough to take in the dimples of his lower back, a deep red bloomed across her cheeks through to her ears. She turned away and resumed her earlier position, leaning her hip against the railing.

“Oh, c’mon,” he called to her, the scowl obviously long gone by the tone of his voice, replaced with what she imagined was an impish grin. “After last night, you’re bashful?” 

She tried to say something, anything, but found she couldn’t do much more than clear her throat. The fact of the matter was that they had just been swept up in a moment, but finding a way to say that which wouldn’t result in his wounded pride was difficult for her.

“Just let me know when you find your shirt,” she shot back to him after a minute of slow breathing, eyes scanning across the landscape. She was going to miss this view.

She heard rustling behind her, and then, “Your royal sensibilities should be saved now, Princess.” 

She turned to begin collecting the bedding, and saw that in the few short minutes her back had been turned, Dragmire had folded it and stacked it neatly. He was now wearing a black lightweight armor chest-plate, thin white cotton shirt rolled up to the elbows, and black leather pants. His hair had been somewhat tamed into a topknot, his sword and shield strapped to his back once more. 

She fished her paraglider out of her bag before collecting the bedding and packing it away. With everything gathered, and with Dragmire just about ready to go, she moved to the southeast-facing side of the tower.

“I’ll see you over there?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at him briefly before launching herself off the top of the tower, unfurling the glider as her feet left the safety of the structure.

She was enjoying her float over when something zoomed past her head and lodged itself into the rock ahead of her.

“WATCH OUT!” she heard from behind her, and just barely had time to move away from the chain that was now anchored into the rock-facing below where she was planning to land. Dragmire zipped past her, pulled by the chain that had almost taken her out a moment earlier.

She watched him hit the rock wall hard, but he never lost his grip. As soon as he was situated against the rock, he started climbing it, pulling himself up onto the top of the rock ledge just as Zelda landed softly next to him.

“How did you do that?” She asked eagerly, folding her glider quickly. “What was that?”

They started walking toward the shrine ahead of them, as he spoke. “It’s a hookshot. They’re pretty useful in the Highlands when you’re trying to scale rock walls covered in ice. The prongs grip in.” 

He handed it to her to examine, and chuckled when she stumbled at the hand-off. The hardware was a lot heavier than she anticipated. She turned it over in her hands, examining it meticulously: the main body of the tool was about two feet in length and eight inches in diameter, a cylindrical case ending in a handle, crafted from what looked like one piece of steel and outfitted with amber details and a leather grip. At the opposite end of the device was a lethal looking obsidian three-pronged claw, tips made from diamond.

They came to a stop once they reached the edge of the cliff the shrine was situated on. Dragmire faced her, taking the hookshot back, then grabbed one of the prongs carefully, twisted and pulled. As it separated from the body, Zelda could see a thin chain connected it.

“So, the chain stays coiled in the main compartment,” he explained, pushing the prongs back in with an audible click. “There’s a release on the handle, but you need quite a bit of pressure to engage it.” 

She nodded and turned her attention to the cliffs looking to the east. She could barely see the canyon pass, and sighed audibly. The sun was climbing higher and she wasn’t looking forward to the trek across the sand. 

“It’ll take me a little longer to get down there,” Dragmire started, “but I think it’s best if you glide yourself down, at least to the ridge below.” 

The formations below them were reminiscent of a walled structure, pillars of rock holding up what was effectively a walkway. 

With that, he started bounding down the cliff-side. She jumped after him, unfurling the glider as she did, floating toward the lower level. Craning her neck, she watched as he jumped from rock to rock, sliding on his heels on the more vertical rock faces. Turning her face back, she focused on landing softly, turning to wait for him, but as she did, he came up behind her.

The slight loss of elevation effected the temperature even here, and she found she was starting to get warm as they followed the ridge and cut toward the east. She kept her hood up to shield her face from the sun, but she knew that by the time they dropped down to the sand, she was going to have to shed some clothes. Her tunic was well-suited for the blustery and rainy weather in Hyrule, but not so much for the desert. 

Reaching the end of their elevated path, Zelda stepped off, floating down to the sand. The ridgetop was a good forty feet up from the ground below, and Dragmire was carefully climbing down. Knowing that she would have a minute, she ducked into the shade on the other side of the ridge after making sure they were alone. She dropped her bag and pulled off her clothes, digging until she found a beautiful set of Gerudo vai armor that Riju had given her. Made of blue and tan swirled fabrics that created a breeze where there was barely one offered by nature, she felt better almost immediately upon pulling the lightweight pants on. The top wasn’t much more than a bandeau, a bronze and silver V-collar piece attaching the center of the top to her neck for support. 

She was searching the bag for the headscarf when Dragmire landed on the sand near her. 

“What are you looking for?”

Zelda sat back on her heels to look up at him, face flushed already, hand coming up to shield her eyes from the sun.

“The scarf that Riju gifted to me, the last piece of this outfit. I can’t seem to find it, and, though I’m loathe to admit it, I wasn’t really built for full sun like this.”

Dragmire raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms and shaking his head at her like one might a child. “Whatever will we do with you.” 

He reached into his armor to pull out a thin piece of jewelry. 

“Here, you can borrow my circlet. I should be able to make it a little smaller…” 

He stretched the ends out for her to see. She stood, pulling her bag up with her, and scanned it: simple strands of hard silver braided together, attached to an enormous sapphire, clearly made to be worn on him considering the length of it and size of the stone. She reached for it, but he pulled it back, shaking his head again. 

“Let me, so I can fix it.”

He motioned for her to turn around, which she did. He stepped close to her, placing the gem against her forehead gently. Holding the gem in place with his right hand, he snaked the left side of the circlet through her hair, then repeated on the opposite side. In a moment, he had secured the ends together.

She turned, shaking her head, testing both the weight of the circlet and its immobility. Dragmire reached up to smooth the sides, pulling on it gently to make sure it was anchored appropriately. 

Zelda was surprised at how instantly cooling the circlet was, and sighed in relief. They began their march across the sand toward the canyon, Zelda working hard to keep up with the Gerudo’s long stride, falling behind a little as she marveled at the circlet.

“I knew that Gerudo gemsmiths were able to imbue some magical properties in their stonework, but I never dreamed it could be this effective.” 

Almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, she realized how condescending it sounded. He stopped for her to catch up, and she blushed. “I’m sorry.”

He shrugged. “It’s okay, Zelda. I know what you meant.”

She smiled a little sheepishly up at him as they continued walking. “Thank you for letting me borrow such a beautiful piece.”

He smiled back, waving her off. “It’s no problem. And it’s less about embedding new magic as it is bringing out the magical properties the stone already has inside it. Oftentimes, the stone just… needs a little attention.”

“That’s much the same with plants,” she mused.

“It’s much the same with most things.”

 

Even moving at a brisk pace, Zelda and Dragmire didn’t reach the stable until dusk. He had to pull his stride back for her to keep up and had to keep stopping for her every time she saw a warm saffina or hydromelon she wanted to collect.

Piaffe, the stable owner, greeted them both warmly, offering to check them into the inn for the night. Zelda was impatient: she had been hoping to start towards Hyrule tonight, but Dragmire talked her out of it, considering that it was quickly getting dark. He suggested that they check into the inn, eat something, and get a decent night’s sleep before setting out the following day. He ribbed her about the journey taking three or four days if she stopped as often on the way back to Hyrule as she had heading into the stable. All she could do was roll her eyes and agree to try to keep moving.

After dropping her things by the bed that she claimed in the small double room they rented, she headed out to clean herself up. She felt unbelievably dusty, and splashed water over her face from a barrel, drying off with a clean cloth. As she gazed into the water, she caught her reflection, and realized that she was still wearing the circlet. 

She finished tiding herself up and went back into the small room they were staying in. Despite a fire roaring in the fireplace, Dragmire was nowhere to be found at that moment, so she took the opportunity to change back into her Hylian tunic and leggings. She started to try to take the circlet off, but realized quickly that it was woven into her hair so well, she couldn’t make heads or tails of how to remove it. She sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if she should go try to find help in taking it off, when Dragmire came in, baring dinner.

“I put together some meat and mushroom skewers,” he said, setting a plate of them down on the table set between the beds. “I mean, you haven’t eaten all day, so I figure you have to be starving. I am, anyway. And goddess knows it’s a horrible idea to leave the cooking up to you, what with the egg fiasco.”

A small pang of sadness welled up in her chest. They smelled delicious, and were a favorite of her former protector’s to cook up. She briefly remembered his cooking, how delicious and soulful it was, before shoving the memory away as hard as she could. She forced a smile and nodded, picking up a skewer and digging in, although she wasn’t all that hungry.

She found that she rarely had an appetite anymore, and ate only because she knew that she had to. She was better off eating raw fruits and vegetables anyway, as she was a terrible cook. She couldn’t even be offended at Dragmire’s remark because it was just true.

“My compliments to the chef,” she joked, but in all honesty, dinner was delicious. She reached for a second skewer and, in between bites, asked, “Do you think you could help me get this circlet off? You wound it in so well that I can’t figure out how to separate it from my hair.”

His eyes smiled as he was in the middle of polishing off his third. “Sure thing,” he said, mouth half full of food. “But you should know, before I do, that it suits you.”

She looked away from his face to the skewer she was holding, and, in spite of her best efforts, felt her expression darken. He had to be referring to the circlet’s similarity to the diadem she’d most likely be granted once she’d been established as queen of Hyrule, something she knew Impa was working on. She’d been trying hard to forget what she was headed back to: responsibility she felt that she was both undeserving of and ill-suited for. She owed her people so much, and they deserved a monarch who would do right by them. The thought made her sick to her stomach, and she put the remainder of her food back on the plate, knowing she wouldn’t be able to finish it now.

She wasn’t sure if it was the stress involved in rebuilding a kingdom, but sleep had evaded her as much as her appetite as of late and she was almost positive that they were related. Her mind was just starting to turn that over when she realized that Dragmire was asking her a question.

“I’m sorry…” she said, shaking her head a little as if to clear the thoughts. “What?”

He looked a little confused as he ditched the last empty skewer. “Do you want to come sit in front of me, or is it easier if I just stand behind you?” Giving her a raised eyebrow and sardonic grin, he added, “I know royalty gets weird about this stuff.” 

“Oh! Right. The circlet.” 

She moved to the floor, kneeling in front of him, her back to him. She closed her eyes as she felt his fingers working at the circlet slowly, carefully extracting it from her hair. She sighed deeply, trying to relax. She couldn’t tell if it was overwhelming sadness or exhaustion taking over her body, but his hands working gently through her hair reminded her of loss, of the hands she wished were there.

Her breathing picked up as her mind started to spin. Soon, they would be back at Hyrule Castle, where she would have to check in with Bolson, who was sure to have at least completed the renovations to her quarters, the last of the castle renovations, if he wasn’t done with the entire town by now. Despite arguing that they should devote all resources to the surrounding town ruins, Zelda had been persuaded by Impa to allow Bolson to split resources between the castle and town, arguing that she needed a safe place to live during the rebuild and that she needed to start taking her own needs into consideration if she were to be an effective leader.

_Effective leader,_ she thought bitterly. _Sure, maybe there’s some way to bounce back from allowing a whole army to be decimated in front of you because you can’t focus. You need to protect them, not the other way around. Maybe there’s some way to be effective when the only thing that forces you to save anyone is your best friend – who doesn’t even know you anymore – almost dying. How selfish could you be, Zelda? Your closest friends being overtaken by the Calamity couldn’t get you to tap into your powers, all of Hyrule potentially being destroyed couldn’t get you there. How is a dimwitted, hormonal hundred-year-old teenager supposed to lead a kingdom?_

She was in full meltdown mode when she realized she had slumped down on her knees, head drooped and eyes squeezed shut, her hands opening and closing into tight fists again and again. She felt like she couldn’t get any air, hot tears pouring down her cheeks.

She dropped straight forward, resting her forehead on her balled fists, still unable to catch her breath. Zelda was so angry, her thoughts whipped up.

Suddenly, her head snapped back as her braid was pulled hard. She felt a rage welling up inside her as her eyes flew open, and it died away almost immediately as she found herself staring into Dragmire’s flushed face. He was breathing hard, eyes wide with a mix of worry and curiosity, bleeding from several cuts. 

She blinked quickly, her focus pinned on him. He let go of her hair, moving to kneel in front of her, his arms wrapping around her and drawing her close. With her ear pressed to his chest, she heard his heartbeat thumping wildly, and over his bicep, she noticed that the room was a mess: the plate of skewers was in a thousand pieces and there were bits of meat and mushroom covering the wall; her mattress had been blown off of her bed, and the frame was thrown against the wall in front of her, his bed against the wall behind her; and there were feathers from an exploded pillow everywhere. 

His face had softened and he had taken to stroking her braid methodically by the time she turned her attention back to him. Her heart sank as she took stock of the blood on his face from the cuts. She slid a hand up to his cheek and, taking a slow, calming breath, focused what little energy she had on sealing the small wounds, a shimmering gold light warming and closing them. 

Once she finished, his fingers entwined with hers and lead her hand away from his face, which didn’t take much as she felt heavy. The hand running over her hair stopped at the back of her head to softly push it back against his chest, his chin resting on top of it.

After a few long minutes of sitting in total silence, except for the crackle of the fire in the fireplace, she whispered, “What did I do?”

She felt him shake his head as he shushed her. “You can worry about that in the morning.”

He leaned forward to grab a blanket that hadn’t gone too far, wrapping her up in it as she started to shake. He gently lowered her to floor, and she realized that she missed his heat, but was too drained to say anything. She watched silently as he righted her bed, pulling the frame back into place, resetting the mattress, and pulling the covers back. He picked her up effortlessly and set her in it, tucking her shivering, wrapped form in. 

Kneeling next to the bed, he ran his fingers over her hair, smoothing a few loose strands away from her face. His eyes were warm but concerned as he brushed his fingers carefully against her cheek. She sighed again, faintly, as she fell asleep.


	3. Parry and Rebound

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a heads up - that "Explicit" rating is earned in this chapter.

Zelda woke up the following morning feeling as if she’d been whacked over the head with a Boko Bat. She looked around the room to see that it was spotless and that everything had been returned to its rightful place. At some point during the night, her tunic had been thrown onto the floor along with her leggings and her hair had fallen out of its braid. She rubbed her head as she realized she was alone, her eyes coming to rest on a glass of water on the table next to her. She sat up, grabbed it and took a sip, wondering if the events of the night before were a dream.

She noticed that Dragmire’s bed was a mess of disheveled sheets, so he had probably slept in it, but also that she had his blanket closest to her body. His sword and shield were leaning against the frame, but his bag was gone. She set the glass back down and drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and looking toward the fire which was still burning, watching it silently.

Dragmire came into the room a few minutes later, dressed in a set of light armor similar to the one he’d donned the day before, save for it being made up mostly of brown leather. The white sleeves of his undershirt were rolled up to his elbows, as usual. He smiled cheerfully as he made the bed.

“Sav’otta, Princess! I was just going to wake you up.” 

She managed a smile. “Good morning, Dragmire,” she greeted, wincing a little at her own voice resonating in her head. 

He sat down on the freshly made bed and eyed her carefully. “Can I get you anything?”

She thought about that for a beat. “…Have anything for a splitting headache?”

“Actually, I have just the thing,” he said, jumping up. He was out of the room like a shot. She laid back, turning her head to revel in the coolness of the pillow. 

When Dragmire came back, he was carrying a mug the size of Hyrule field. He sat on the edge of her bed as she sat back up and tried to peer into the mug. He pulled it just out of her sight.

“No peeking,” he said, eyes shining with amusement. “You have to just trust me and drink it, but I promise it will help.”

She didn’t like the sound of that, but she also didn’t like the throbbing in her brain. 

“Fine,” she said, reaching for the mug. “I promise not to look.”

He gave her a grin that made her weary as she took the mug from him. True to her word, she closed her eyes and drank tentatively. 

The wariness was completely unwarranted: whatever he had brewed up for her tasted delicious. It was just a little bit sweet, earthy, and floral, and as she drank, she could feel the pulsing in her brain ebbing away with the warmth of the liquid until she felt almost completely perked up.

When she finished, she set the mug aside and turned her gaze to her hands. “Thank you, Dragmire.” She looked up at him, and seeing his warm smile, she added, “That was wonderful, despite the ominous warning. What was in it that you didn’t want me to see?”

“The color,” he said, shrugging just a little. “It was a tea, made from acorns, honey, lotus seeds, and boiled hydromelon juice. The problem is that it turns this terrible grey color when you throw everything together. Tends to be a little off-putting.” 

“I can understand that,” she conceded, nodding.

She glanced down at her hands, expecting him to fill the silence and say something about the previous night’s events. Instead, he tousled her hair. 

“If you’re feeling better, we should really get a move on,” he said, rising and collecting his things as he headed toward the door. “As it stands, it’s going to take us a solid day, if not two, to get to the castle, and it’s already almost noon.”

She jumped, yelling after him. “Noon?! Why didn’t you wake me up?!” 

Slipping out of bed, she threw her clothes and boots on and tried to tame her hair by twisting it back into a bun at the top of her head. She grabbed her bag, looked around the room one more time for evidence that last night’s meltdown had actually happened. She didn’t see anything at first and headed to join Dragmire. As her hand reached the doorknob, she glanced in the mirror by the door and noticed a crack over the bottom right corner that had not been there the day before.

She felt a little queasy thinking about the night before as she moved out through the stable, heading to the stalls.

She didn’t have an opportunity to feel sick for long, however, as she was caught completely off guard by the sight she took in.

Dragmire was tacking up the most enormous black stallion she had ever seen, with a shocking mane and tail of tangerine. She’d never seen him ride anything other than a sand seal, and didn’t expect that he had a horse, although she realized that it was silly to think so. She was fairly sure that this beast currently snorting at him was going to make her own horse look like a pony standing side by side.

The stallion’s ears were fixed on her as she approached, smiling softly and clicking her tongue at him. Dragmire was busy packing saddlebags with his back to her, and almost jumped out of his skin when he turned around to see her gently stroking the stallion’s nose. He raised an eyebrow at the scene.

“Well, now,” he started, leaning against the horse. “Aveillar is a sucker for a beautiful vai.”

She rolled her eyes at that and dug in her bag to pull a carrot out for him, which he took from her with gusto.

“Especially a beautiful vai bearing food,” he added with a laugh, patting Aviellar’s flank with a heavy hand. “Better watch it, buddy. You’re going to get fat.” 

Aveillar pawed at the ground and snorted, shaking his mane. Zelda laughed in spite of herself and went to get her own horse from Piaffe. 

Dragmire had taken the liberty of tacking Storm up for her, probably before she’d even gotten out of bed. Stroking the white mare’s face, she dropped her forehead against her nose, cooing to her. She mounted with ease and had to coax her a little bit to pull up alongside Dragmire and Aveillar. Storm was hesitant to stand close by the stallion but calmed as they started heading down the path toward Hyrule.

They traveled in a companionable silence, Dragmire letting her lead the way. He occasionally broke out into song, singing in an old Gerudo dialect that Zelda barely recognized. She had to restrain herself more than from hopping off her horse to inspect the flora as the terrain changed from dusty canyon to lush riverbank. 

At just about dusk, he pulled up beside her, towering over her on his mammoth horse. They slowed to a stop.

“We should find somewhere to pack it in for the night. Travelling is certainly safer now than it was during the Calamity, but it still has its pitfalls.” 

She sighed, trying not to sound impetuous. “Are you sure we can’t go a little further?” 

“I tried the other night, but you weren’t into it.”

She looked his way, fixing him with what she hoped was a sharp look despite a deep blush blooming across her cheeks. He tried keep a straight face, but he couldn’t help himself and broke into a full-on laugh. 

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned. She rolled her eyes and dropped the reins, waiving him on and crossing her arms. “C’mon, get it out.”

He bent over Aveillar’s neck, his face buried in the horse’s mane, actually slapping his knee.

Picking the reins back up, she moved Storm around him and continued up the path. 

“Oh, c’mon, Princess,” he yelled after her once his laughter had died away. She kept her gaze fixed forward even as he pulled up next to her again, trotting alongside her. “You have to admit, it was pretty funny.”

“Mm-hm.” She gave him a sidelong glance.

“In all honesty, though,” he reasoned, “we really should make camp for the night. We can probably make it back to the castle by nightfall tomorrow, provided we leave just after daybreak.”

She made a noncommittal noise as she conceded that it was getting dark quickly, and looked around, at the fork in the path, assessing their location. She closed her eyes, visualizing the maps she had tried to memorize so long ago, thinking: If the Great Plateau is behind us and sort of to our right, and the castle is ahead of us, there should be…

When she opened her eyes, she headed right down the middle of the fork, off the path and into a cluster of trees.

She wove Storm carefully around the trees and over their roots, until the tree-line gave way to a small pond, mostly obscured by the canopy of leaves above them. She hopped off Storm near the water as Dragmire coaxed Aveillar towards her. 

“I don’t think he’s a fan of how close the trees are to each other,” Dragmire said, dropping to the soft earth. They watched as the horses moved to the pond to drink. 

“Does this work for you?” she asked, as she dropped her bag and started digging through it, hanging a feedbag on a nearby tree for Storm.

“Oh, absolutely,” Dragmire replied, still looking around. It was extremely private considering its proximity to the road. 

He lifted the saddlebags off of Aveillar, leaving them next to Zelda’s, before pulling firewood from one of them. He moved away a little before setting up the logs and some twigs he had collected from under the trees. It wasn’t long before the logs were burning and casting a flickering light along their clearing.

She dropped onto the mossy ground near the fire, saddlebags behind her, pulling her boots off and stretching her legs out. Dragmire sat a little bit away from her, leaning back against one of the trees. Reaching back into her bag, she took out a couple of apples, throwing one to him, which he caught right before it hit him in the face. 

While Zelda ate hers quickly, raw, and without fuss, Dragmire picked up a stick from the ground nearby and popped the apple onto the end, holding it out to roast in the fire. 

“We should probably talk a little bit about last night,” he said tentatively, eyes fixed on the apple he was cooking.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, her gaze fixed on the horses meandering on the far side of the pond. She was trying to stay calm, so the words didn’t rush out of her and she wouldn’t ramble like she usually did when she was very nervous.

“I know,” she started softly. “I’m so sorry about that. I can’t think of the last time something like that happened. Maybe shortly after I got back? Impa had been working on me as far as mediating goes to keep this kind of thing at bay, and I guess I haven’t kept up with it… At least, I can’t think of when something like this happened and been that bad. I mean, there have been mornings when I’ve woken up and felt like something had happened, but last night was so different. I felt like boulders rolling downhill, just one horrible thought after another, and I couldn’t stop...”

She smiled a little at that, her eyes volleying from the fire to her hands in her lap. “Couldn’t stop until you distracted me, I suppose.”

Zelda ventured to glance at him surreptitiously. His face was more serious than she was used to seeing it, but it still wasn’t unkind.

He pulled the apple, now baked and fragrant, from the fire, removing it carefully from the stick. He took a bite and closed his eyes, as if it was the most delicious thing in the world.

“You know,” he started, taking another bite and talking around it as he chewed, “when I was a kid, just coming into my own magic, I burned down our cabin in the highlands. I had absolutely no idea what I was doing: all of a sudden, I had fire at my fingertips, and then everything was burning. Teake was pissed.”

She tilted her head. “You knew Teake back then?”

He nodded, finishing off his fruit, throwing the core into the fire. 

“I did. Teake raised me after my mother passed away. She kept putting off training me because she wanted me to be a child for as long as possible, which is a… bone of contention, you might say, among the older Gerudo generations and the younger ones. Teake believes that children should be allowed to lean into that time in their lives, since it’s so brief. The old guard, however…” He shrugged. “Well, Riju is chief of the village, and she’s barely a teenager, so you can see who won that battle.

“Anyway,” he continued, “Teake put off training me to use the magic that was obviously developing within me, regardless of anyone’s wishes. And then I realized I had this ability, couldn’t control it, and burned down the house in one of the coldest winters the highlands had seen. She couldn’t put training off any more after that.”

He thought about that briefly, and corrected himself with a small smile, meeting her eyes with his own. “Well, she couldn’t put it off, but she did for a little while so we could build a new cabin. I mean, it was really cold.”

She returned the smile, although her heart wasn’t in it. 

“Last night - I think it’s a very similar situation. You can obviously control your power, but it also gets the best of you sometimes, and that’s okay, as long as you aren’t burning the house down. It takes years to master things like that.”

Years. Hadn’t she _had_ years to master it? A hundred years, in fact, of sealing and focusing and controlling, yet now, she felt unmoored.

Still, she nodded, blowing out a deep breath. Her chest felt tight and she tried to shove away the notion that things could have been much worse. Swallowing hard, she asked, “What exactly happened?”

He raised an eyebrow, then nodded. “I was taking the circlet out of your hair one minute, and the next, the bed and I were thrown against the wall. Everything was gold light, coming from you, and you had your head in your hands. It was like fighting against the strongest wind I’ve ever felt, until I pulled your hair. The whole thing probably lasted a minute, maybe two at the most.”

She sighed, her hand coming to her forehead and rubbing at it. “And the cuts on your face?”

“The plate, when it broke. And the mirror, when I hit it face-first.” He chuckled, showcasing both sides of his face to her. “But, look, no harm done that you couldn’t fix. At least there’s a healing aspect to your power.”

She dropped her hands to her lap and looked down at them. How could she do so much damage without her realizing it? She felt her cheeks burning with shame, breathing starting to speed up, embarrassed that she had hurt him and that he was being so nice about it. She wanted to laugh it off the way he did, but all she could feel was abject failure, especially as he mentioned the healing aspect. Where the hell had that been when she needed it, more than 100 years prior? 

She shook her head, as if she could physically shake the feeling of personal disaster off of her.

“So,” he started, breaking the silence. “Let me ask you a question.”

Looking up at him, she hesitated to nod as she saw all traces of levity gone from his face. She ultimately nodded to allow him to proceed.

“What exactly were you feeling?”

_Like a failure. Overwhelmed with regret. Needlessly dramatic._

“Oh, I don’t know,” she answered softly, bringing her eyes to the treetops as she undid the bun her hair was in, shaking it out. “Just emotional, I guess.”

“’Emotional’ is a pretty big range,” he replied, moving closer to her. He reached out and tilted her chin up toward him, nudging her to look into his eyes. His fingertips slid back along her jawline. Her breath caught as they met and she realized his eyes were shining in an odd way as he dropped his voice. “I need you to be more specific.”

She squirmed a little but let him hold her gaze. She was painfully aware of his fingers wrapped around the base of her skull, gentle but warm, fingertips in her hair. Her stomach was doing those ridiculous flips again, and she swallowed hard.

“H-hopeless. Devastated.” Her face felt so hot, and she knew that her ears were probably just as flushed as her cheeks. “Ashamed… for feeling hopeless and devastated.”

His thumb began stroking her cheek in long, slow sweeps, brushing just barely against her lower lip. She shifted a little as he kept intense eye contact, and she realized it wasn’t just her face that was radiating heat. She could feel it growing from her core, despite how nervous he made her in this moment. 

“That’s better,” he said soothingly. “Much more specific. Can you tell me why it is you felt like that?”

His other hand had migrated to her hip, and she could feel herself melting under his touch. He began running his hand up and down her thigh slowly, which prompted her to part her knees slightly. If his hand would only…

_Get it together, Zelda,_ she scolded herself, breaking eye contact with him and gently pushing his hands away. The last thing she needed to do was vent to him about the kind of failure she was, and if they were going to be working together to train Hyrule’s new army, she was going to have to keep her composure around him. She couldn’t keep falling apart every time he put his hands on her.

“Well,” she started, shaking her head as she put a little distance between them. “If anything, I’m a little anxious about returning to the castle. There is a lot to do now that the town, garrisons, and training fields have been rebuilt, along with the castle itself. I’m not looking forward to it.”

He leaned away from her, looking a little perplexed at her shift, but nodded. “That’s understandable.”

The intense light that had been shining in his eyes was gone as he turned his attention back to the fire, but she could still feel the buzz in the pit of her stomach. 

“There’s a semblance of autonomy I have at this moment,” she explained, “that’s going to disappear the minute we get back. The training is part of it, but there’s the coronation, as well, and all that that entails.”

She was less worried about the diplomacy end of things: she had explained an abbreviated version of the end of the calamity and her plans for the future to the rulers of the other races, and come away with wonderful new allies, with the exception of King Dorephan, whom she hadn’t had to convince in any way, as he remembered her and liked her very much. He was delighted to keep such a secret as her age in exchange for Zelda’s conversation and memories of Mipha. With Impa and King Dorephan vouching for her, anxieties that she would not be seen as having a legitimate claim to the throne of Hyrule were erased. 

She would be crowned queen, then would be expected to take a king and produce heirs to the throne, which opened up a new set of challenges. 

She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn’t yet told Impa or Purah that she didn’t believe she would be able to produce an heir, that her body had not completely returned to itself after 100 years dormant. 

As with most aspects of her life, she just ran up against ways in which she was failing at something and couldn’t shake the feeling.

“I didn’t mean to make you more upset,” he offered after a moment, reaching over to put a hand on her shoulder.

She shook her head again, looking up at him with a slight smile. “No, no, I know. I appreciate your willingness to listen. I haven’t really had anyone to talk to about these things since before the Calamity, especially as I’ve been moving from place to place alone. It’s… starting to weigh on me how different life is going to be: I’ve answered to virtually no one since returning… been able to travel freely. I’ll just miss that, I suppose.” 

He grinned at her. “Well, if you decide you need someone to whisk you out of the castle for an evening, I’ll be around for at least a little while, while we’re getting your troops organized. I can’t imagine I’ll be hard to find.”

She started to thank him but stopped mid-sentence as she heard the unmistakable sound of a bow being drawn over her right shoulder. She rolled to her left, on top of Dragmire behind the safety of a tree trunk, as two arrows hit the ground where she had been sitting not a moment earlier.

“Fucking Yiga,” Dragmire growled, eyes flashing into hers.

She reached over to her bag quickly, pulling her bow and quiver from it, popping up onto her feet in a low crouch over him. Nocking an arrow, she drew and released, skimming to the right of the tree. A shout cut through the air as her arrow hit home, and she jumped up, Dragmire following suit to grab his sword. 

She drew again, aiming out of the clearing, focusing on any sound. The arrow released as she was struck from behind, the wind knocked out of her. She hit the ground hard and rolled over to see Dragmire charging her assailant, a hulking clan-member wielding a windcleaver. She only had a second to focus on him, however, as the Yiga archer who had been gunning for her seemed to materialize over her. 

The archer drew, and Zelda just managed to kick the bottom of his bow up to throw his shot above her. She grabbed an arrow from her quiver, Goddess mark flaring on the back of her right hand, a golden glow lighting the arrow as she jumped up and drove it deep into her attacker's neck. Disarmed, the archer crumpled to the ground with a howl, grasping fruitlessly at the wound while his skin burned away around the arrow. The light faded, and the archer became still. 

Zelda turned and took up her bow and another arrow, breathing heavily, to see Dragmire standing over the bodies of two Yiga enforcers, his back to her. From the way it glinted in the firelight, she could tell there was blood dripping from his sword, and she was fairly sure he had beheaded one of them. Her stomach lurched at the idea, and she tore her gaze away from what she would posit was not a rock rolling distance from the bodies.

The air seemed ready to split in front of Dragmire, so she nocked another arrow quickly and drew. She released just as a second Yiga archer materialized in front of him, the arrow whizzing six inches or so over Dragmire’s shoulder. It hit home in the center of the eye of the archer’s mask before he could think about raising his bow. He fell backward, white mask soaked red by the time he hit the ground.

Dragmire faced her slowly, dropping his sword as he did. His eyes ran carefully over her form, seemingly searching for any sign of damage. He closed the distance to her almost in slow motion, his stare drawn to the fallen archer’s corpse beside her, which she followed to the gaping hole in his neck, still smoking slightly and reeking of charred flesh. 

Zelda suddenly became aware that her heart was pounding and looked up at him, a little uncertain and trying to take a steadying breath. His eyes were shining as before, a mix of relief and something she couldn’t quite discern there. She swayed a little on her feet. He gently took her bow from her and put it aside; then he was on her before she realized what was happening. 

His right hand slipped against her jaw where it had been before, fingers curled around the base of her neck as his lips met hers, left hand scooping her up and pressing her to him as he backed her against a tree. Her head was swimming as she struggled to keep up with his kisses, fierce, all teeth and tongues and warmth. An idea materialized in her head, nipping softly at his tongue as he pushed his way into her mouth, her hands grabbing at the latches on the side of his breastplate. She broke the kiss to pull it up and off of him as she wrapped her legs low around his waist.

Her hands pressed to his chest as his lips moved along her jawline, his tongue ghosting along her skin. She tilted her head to give him access to her neck as her hands found the bottom of his shirt. She tugged it up, eliciting a low growl from him as she forced him back to take it off. He was radiating heat, and she was having trouble figuring out where his heat ended and her own began. 

He hiked her up against the tree, fingers digging into her behind and pressing himself harder into her, his eyes wild as his lips descended on hers. She shifted against him, her hands against his chest once more as he drank her kiss in. Her nails dug into his skin as he bit at her lip, and she felt his breath hitch, his hips circling against her. Encouraged, she did it again, and he thrust hard, pinning her between his body and the tree, his kisses moving back along her jawline to her ear. He licked the edge of her earlobe slowly, almost panting against it before biting it, prompting her to wrap her arms around his broad chest and scratch his back slowly. She was rewarded with a sharp breath against her ear and his hands moved up her sides, fingers pressing over each rib, before grabbing at the neck of her tunic and tearing it open.

She was taken by surprise, but quickly forgot about it as his kisses started moving across her collarbone. She found she was writhing into him, feeling him pressed up against her core, every fidget sending a tingle through her body.

She tilted her head back against the bark of the tree, groaning at a particularly pointed twist of his hips while his hands came up under her breasts and his thumbs worked at her nipples through her thin undershirt. She tried to swallow a second moan and felt his lips curve into what she imagined was a smirk against her skin. 

Returning his attention to her lips and his hands to her bottom, his tongue distracted her as he brought her down to the moss beneath their feet. She wrapped an arm around his neck to keep his lips to hers while her other hand reached down to work the laces on his pants. She had just managed to free him from them when he collected both of her wrists in one of his massive hands and held them above her head. He leaned back to survey her body, her hips currently twisting against nothing, nipples tight through the thin material covering them. 

Ignoring her squeak of protest, his free hand moved down to push her legs apart, fingers sliding along the apex of her thighs, stroking her maddeningly through her leggings. She bit her lip and turned her face, refusing to make any more noise for him as his fingers moved lightly along her even though his touch was driving her mad. He raised an eyebrow, seeing the challenge, his eyes still bright and ethereal as he moved down her body. He rolled her leggings down and off as quickly as he could before she protested too much, then threw her legs over his shoulders, one hand returning to secure her wrists.

When he kissed her again, she was struck by how the heat seemed to only be building in him despite her body absorbing it. His lips were like flames dancing along her skin as he moved down her cheeks, his tongue flicking softly against the hollow of her throat. With his free hand, he started to explore her center, holding her open and sliding one finger into her. Her hips jumped once at his entry, bumping into his chest, and jumped again as his thumb found the bundle of nerves at her core. She bit her lip again to stay quiet and tried to twist away, but she couldn’t stop the moan he coaxed out of her as his thumb drew slow, infuriating circles into her. 

She was panting, trying to spread her legs a little wider for him as he teased her, his finger withdrawing and plunging deep into her at a sluggish pace. His eyes were locked onto her face while his thumb began brushing over the sensitive bud more frequently. Zelda pushed her wrists up against his grasp and whimpered in frustration as she tried to create more friction. The corners of his mouth perked up into a grin as he slipped another finger inside her, coaxing a heady whine from her.

Sure that they would attract more unwanted attention if she weren’t careful, Zelda bit down on her lip again in an effort to keep quiet, but it was nearly impossible as he picked up the pace with the two digits filling her. His thumb – _his Goddess forsaken thumb_ – was tapping directly on her, fingers drawing her out. She could tell she was a swollen mess by now, and had mostly lost control of her hands, twisting and grasping unsuccessfully for purchase on anything, still held in place gently but firmly by Dragmire. 

He kissed his way across her cheek to her ear again, face serious as he did, and whispered, “I want to hear you, Zelda… Sing for me…”, just before his thumb pressed directly into her clit and ground down.

The added pressure sent her body rigid, toes curling with a climax that had her seeing stars. She yelped at first, which gave way to wanton moans as she rode it out, her legs and center clamped down on his hand and pulsing. He pulled back from her ear to watch her face, eyes drifting down her body to take her in.

She wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, but in a moment, he was gently withdrawing his hand from her, and she found herself yearning for him. He still had her hands pinned above her head, even as she slid a leg down off of his shoulder and brushed it against him. He let go of her wrists to reposition himself, and her fingers were almost immediately wrapped around him, stroking gently, her other foot dropping to his side. He leaned back, kneeling up straight, eyes roaming freely between her hands, acquainting with him, and her face, her eyes filled with curiosity.

The majority of her experiences had been less than educational, a lot of fumbling after too much wine in dark rooms, the edges of each memory blurred. There was something so much more intense about this, as she tried to commit every inch of his skin and curve of muscle to memory. 

After a moment, she stretched up, biting at his bottom lip before grabbing his shoulders and pushing him backward. Once he settled on his back, she knelt over him, dropping the torn tunic and taking off her undershirt. His hands started at her shoulders but followed the curve of her nude form down to her hips. She moved over him slowly, reaching down to run the length of him back and forth along herself. 

It was his turn to gasp as she lined him up and pressed down, her body so relaxed from her earlier climax that she settled into his lap without too much issue, but slowly. Her body yielded to him, and she twisted her hips down unhurriedly until she had every inch of him inside her. She settled herself into him as if she were settling into a saddle, adjusting her hips from one side to the other until she found the perfect place to rest. His eyelids fluttered just a little while she did, but he kept them open, shaking his head slightly as he took in the sight of her.

“Zelda…” 

Her hands came down to rest on his chest as she started riding him, lifting her hips up and dropping them in a steady rhythm. The feeling of him sliding in and out of her set her on edge, pleasure pooling at her center again. When she ground down on him, she earned a groan from him and his eyes dropped to the back of his head. 

He moved one of his hands to her, his fingers dipping into her own wetness and sliding back and forth against her. She started rolling her hips in earnest now, feeling the thickness of him filling her, his agile fingers drawing a downright animal moan from her that she no longer felt self-conscience about. She could feel the tension inside her building, and she realized that a string of almost unintelligible pleas were pouring from her. She pushed her hips to move faster and dropped her head back for a moment before his free hand came up and wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her face down to him.

The sudden change in position was enough to push her off the edge, and she felt her legs tighten to his sides as she came hard, her soaked core tightening and releasing of its own accord. His lips found hers just as his hands clamped down on her hips, fingers digging into her in a not-unpleasant pain. He held her to him tightly as his own climax washed over him, her pulsing lost in his. She broke the kiss and pressed her cheek to his, breathing obscenities or praises to him (she barely knew which) even as his head dropped back and he whispered her name over and over again.


	4. Skyline

Zelda awoke alone, surrounded by blankets she didn’t remember pulling the previous evening. The sun was just barely starting to rise, and she sat up slowly to greet it. Almost immediately, she realized that she was stark naked, fumbling to grab the blanket, her back protesting at the sudden movement. She had a feeling she was bruised from the hit she had taken the night before. Just as the panic was about to set in, she saw Dragmire sitting not far from her at the fire.

“I feel like I’m in a constant state of saying ‘Good morning’ to you,” she mumbled, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She looked beyond him, noticing that the Yiga bodies were gone.

He nodded in response, stoking the fire. “I could think of worse company to wake up to several days in a row.”

She blushed, keeping the blanket pulled tight to her body. She raised a shoulder to him, pain spiking in her back. “I would agree with that.”

His eyes flicked to her, the sheen from last night gone, but remnants of hunger left behind. He chuckled softly, and she found that her gaze had settled on his mouth.

“I’ll bet. It seems that when sleep comes to you, it doesn’t matter where you are or who you’re with. That could certainly be seen as a liability, Princess, if you aren’t among friends,” he said, his tone relaying his amusement. “Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever known such a heavy sleeper.”

“It’s been a little while since I’ve been in a position to be that way,” she replied softly, her tone a little too raw as she dropped her eyes. “I don’t know that I ever truly appreciated the kind of sleep one can drop into when they’re being watched over by a capable guard until I was on my own.”

_I wish I had,_ she thought, and stopped herself. She looked back up at his face to see him staring at her, gentle look in his eyes and soft smile on his lips. She steeled herself against the doubt she was feeling, resigned to do things differently on this side of the Calamity than she had before.

“So… Thank you for giving me an opportunity to sleep soundly.”

He nodded, silent for a moment, before his eyes crinkled and his smile turned into a grin. “And maybe giving you a reason to sleep so soundly?”

Her cheeks flared again, but she narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to smile. “I think that was the Yiga. And you owe me a new tunic.”

He laughed full out, a sound she was really starting to enjoy, and moved on to making breakfast.

 

They were back on the move within an hour, after making quick work of omelets. Dragmire had confirmed for her that a long, angry bruise marred her back from her left shoulder down to her right hip, in addition to some bruising he’d left on her hips himself. He wanted to mix something up to heal it faster, but she wouldn’t let him; she just dressed in clean clothes, pulled her hair into a low bun, and whistled for the horses. 

As they wound their way closer to the castle, Zelda found herself getting more and more antsy. She was nervous to see the renovation progress and to meet those who were coming back to Castle Town to repopulate it and set up shop. 

She was stroking Storm’s neck as they meandered along, lost in her thoughts about what would make her the kind of ruler the Hylian people were owed, when they came up over a hill and had their first clear view of the castle and surrounding town cross Hyrule field.

Her breath caught in her throat and she slowed to a stop. It had been months since she had been back and the difference she could see, even from this distance, was astounding. The rubble surrounding the castle was gone, and the buildings actually looked like they were habitable. 

Her heart swelled to see it, and she felt a new lightness as she progressed forward, her doubts vanishing. Dragmire pulled up beside her as she pushed Storm into a trot, picking up the pace a little.

“Is it everything you hoped you’d see?” he asked, smiling at her. 

She just beamed and nodded.

They trotted on like that for a little while, as clouds rolled in, and thunder sounded in the distance. She realized that she missed the rainy days Hyrule frequently had. When, after a few minutes, the skies opened up and rain began to pelt them with heavy, cold drops, she laughed out loud. 

Dragmire, on the other hand, looked disgusted. She pointed ahead of them to the old Hyrule garrison ruins, and spurred Storm into a gallop, Aveillar and Dragmire following close behind them. They managed to take shelter under a stone staircase just as lightning started to touch down in the field. 

Zelda realized they were probably in the remains of a holding cell, although the only part of the structure left were two and a half walls, the staircase, and a part of the second floor. She dropped off of Storm gingerly and looped her reins around the bars still left in the window. Dragmire followed suit, hitching Aveillar next to Storm, then moved to the corner best protected from the elements and hunkered down, leaning back against the wall in the corner.

She sat down next to him carefully, her back protesting a little bit as she leaned against the wall. Sitting close to him, listening to the rain pelting the ruins and thunder baring down on them, she turned her face up to him and tilted her head, considering him.

“You look miserable,” she said, giggling a little.

He shot her a look that would make most people wither. “I am miserable. It’s cold. And I’m wet. I hate being cold and wet.”

She covered her mouth as she continued giggling, her eyes bright. “Welcome to Hyrule, Dragmire.”

She reached out to pat him on the shoulder, surprised that his shirt seemed to already be dry while she, on the other hand, was still mostly soaked through. Her brows knit in confusion, and it was his turn to laugh.

“The benefit of running warmer than Hylians, I suppose,” he replied, shrugging.

She nodded, snuggling up to him despite a noise of protest as his arm draped across her sopping shoulder. “It’s not the first time I’ve thought this,” she confessed, “But I’ve never known anyone to be so aptly named as you are. ‘Eldin’ describes you perfectly.”

He leaned his head back against the wall, closing his eyes for a moment. “Teake knew me better than my mother did, that’s for sure.”

She let her head drop into his chest, his warmth chasing the chill out of her. “What do you mean?”

“Teake named me Eldin. She changed my name after my mother passed,” he started to explain, his hand running up and down her arm. “My mother spent much of her life ill, which is strange for Gerudo, as I’m sure you know. We tend to be pretty hardy stock. You have to be, in the desert and the highlands.”

She nodded, gazing up at him. His eyes were still closed, and he looked relaxed.

“I think she hoped that by having a child either the illness would leave her or she could overcome it with the additional responsibility, you know… as if her spirt would finally fight it off. When I was born, she knew she would succumb to it, and gave me a terrible name, thinking that would ward off the illness from being passed to me.”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze. He was awfully serious, and her stomach twisted.

She let her hand rest against his chest, giving him a lopsided smile, snuggling closer. “It’s embarrassing, isn’t it? … Sherwood? It’s Sherwood, right?”

“No,” he replied with a mirthless laugh. He sighed heavily, eyes a little sad. “I’ve never told anyone. I don’t know if I should be telling you, of all people.”

“What did she name you?” she asked, tentatively, now unsure if she necessarily wanted to know.

He swallowed audibly, pausing before resigning himself. 

“You’re sure you want to know?”

She nodded.

“Ganondorf.”

She froze but willed her face not to betray the sudden nausea she felt as she took a deep breath. Of all the namesakes to have, his mother had chosen the Calamity for this man.

But part of her understood. The Calamity survived 100 years; thousands of years, if the legend of its origin was true. It made sense on a certain level to Zelda that, as a parent, Dragmire’s mother may have seen that as terrible strength and wished that kind of tenacity for her son.

Concern graced his features he waited for her response and it softened her gut reaction. 

Zelda reached up, laying her hand on his cheek lightly, giving him what she hoped was an encouraging smile. “We are no more in control of what our parents name us than we are in control of the weather.” 

She knew that from personal experience. She was almost grateful that much of the written history of the Zeldas that came before her was either vague or lost; of all people, she understood a name with a burden.

His hand followed hers, covering it and pressing it tighter to his cheek. He turned his face into her palm, kissing it, before bringing her hand down to his hip, his fingers laced in hers.

“Besides,” she said, laying her head back on his chest and relaxing against him, “At least it wasn’t Sherwood.”

He chuckled. “It’s not that bad a name.”

“…You’ve obviously never met a Sherwood,” she mumbled into his chest, smiling as he wrapped both of his arms around her and pulled her into his lap.

His kissed the top of her head as she curled up against him, listening to the rain pelting the stone above them. She was happy to snuggle into his warmth. He was always so warm.

“I meant to ask you,” he said quietly, “Where did you learn to shoot?”

“A friend, a long time ago. Why?” She giggled softly, willing herself not to follow that train of thought for long and rolling her eyes. “Was my aim surprising?”

He shook his head, and she could feel him breathing in her hair. “No, nothing like that. Your draw.”

“What about my draw?”

“It’s just… different.”

“How so?” she asked.

“You draw backwards, with your palm facing out. Most archers draw so they can use their fingers as an anchor, and you use your knuckles,” he replied. “I just thought it was a little bit odd.”

She tried not to think about who taught her how to shoot, who had insisted that she learn in order to take care of herself in case a day came when he wasn’t there to protect her. Where he had learned to shoot was a mystery to her, although she herself had commented on it while he trained her.

“You’re obviously very good,” he offered, mistaking her silence for offense. He moved one of his hands to rub her back, and she jumped as he pressed the bruise. 

He made a frustrated noise in his throat, dropping his hand to her hip and leaning his head back against the wall.

“Just let me help you!” he exclaimed. “It takes no time to mix a salve that will fix it. Such a silly thing not to do.”

She shook her head. “I’m okay, really. It’s just a little uncomfortable. I’ll heal.”

He looked annoyed, grumbling, “You’re so stubborn.”

“It’s my prerogative to be,” she said, laughing. “I’m so sorry you have to be careful with me.”

They sat in silence for a long stretch as she listened to the rain. It was slowing, and she had a feeling they would probably be able to continue their journey soon.

After a minute, he whispered, “I should’ve been more careful last night.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she replied, a smile playing at her eyes. “I thought you were just fine. A couple of marks in places where no one will see them is hardly something to be upset about.”

He shook his head. “With the Yiga, I mean.”

“You did what you could, which was lethal, to say the least.” She traced her fingers along his chest slowly, trying to distract him. Zelda hated the idea that he might analyze the night before and be upset. “And you even cleaned up before I awoke. Very considerate of you.”

Turning, she straddled his lap. Her lips pressed to his gently, despite the sour look on his face. She ran her fingers over the sides of his neck and buried them in his hair as his hands slid up the back of her thighs, stroking over her behind methodically.

Her tongue slipped into his mouth, made bold thanks to the night before. She groaned as he grabbed at her bottom, fingers digging into her plump flesh, pulling her into him. 

She leaned back, her eyes roving over his features slowly. He closed the gap between their lips again, not yet done with her, clearly. She twisted her hips over him, rubbing up against him as his hands worked at her skin, moving up her body to start rolling her leggings off.

She jumped a little at his relocation and broke the kiss to scold him. Before she had a chance to, however, he leaned into her ear.

“We can leave now and make it back to the castle by nightfall,” he murmured, “or we can stay here, and I can ravish you this afternoon, tonight, tomorrow morning…” 

She reached down to his hands, redirecting them gently. 

“Goddess knows, I would love to stay here with you,” she started, her hands moving back to his chest, rubbing slowly. She pushed against it to stand, grinning, moving over to Storm. “But I’m anxious to get back. I’ve been away for too long, if the architectural advancements are any indication.”

 

They made good time, racing across Hyrule field trying to beat the sunset, against the wind that had picked up despite the rain and clouds having cleared. Zelda was laughing out loud at Dragmire’s goofy songs as they slowed to a trot when they reached the edges of Castle Town. She was bright, unable to believe her eyes as they moved along the streets toward the castle itself: the buildings had been pieced back together, fresh paint gleaming in the late sun, the roads cleared of debris. Although there weren’t a crowd of people milling about yet, there were a few on the streets, smiling up at her and bowing their heads as she passed.

They passed a bakery and a tavern on their way towards the main bridge to the castle, across the square from what looked like a blacksmith. It was hard to tell without signage, but the hearth inside made sense to Zelda to be for weaponry, and the doorway was large enough for Gorons to move easily through. 

“It’s just the beginning,” she said quietly to Dragmire as they progressed. She felt like she might explode with joy and couldn’t wait to see Bolson to discuss the development with him. 

Dragmire was hard-pressed not to return her smile, though she noticed he was working to keep his face stony, falling just a little behind her as they reached the wide bridge leading to the castle proper. She pulled Storm closer to the edge of the bridge, inspecting the stone as they traveled. It wasn’t glowing now, but she was in awe as she realized the bridge was inlaid with Luminous stone; she knew it would be glorious at night.

The castle gate was closed and looked impenetrable, currently guarded by Dorian and Cado, two of Impa’s most dedicated bodyguards.

“Good afternoon!” she called, stopping Storm a few feet ahead of them and hopping down.

The Sheikah gatekeepers dipped their heads in respect, opening the gate for her to pass. As she did, she noticed that they eyed her companion warily, but said nothing.

She led Storm forward, her breath catching in her throat as she looked upon the castle, exterior restored to its former glory. She slowly shook her head, her smile unwavering as they wound through the castle grounds.

A woman appearing to be about Zelda’s age, with long silver hair and Sheikah garb, burst out of the main doors of the second gatehouse as they approached, stretching up to wave to her, running forward to meet them. 

Zelda turned her smile onto Paya, dropping Storm’s reins and rushing to meet her with a hug. They had developed a fast friendship during Zelda’s stay with Impa after the fall of the Calamity, prior to setting out to meet with the heads of each race.

“Zelda!” Paya cried, embracing her tightly. “I’m so glad you’re back safely. Did you get my letters?”

She nodded, hugging her back and giggling. “I did! Thank you so much for keeping me in the loop on castle business while I’ve been away. I know Impa has trouble finding the time to write, and I very much appreciate you picking up the mantle.”

As they released each other, Paya turned her attention to Zelda’s physical state, pulling gently at her clothes, hands pressing to her cheeks briefly, and making a sort of “tsk tsk” noise in her throat. “You haven’t been eating -- or sleeping! That’s not good, Princess. You need to take better care of yourself on the road, or Grandmother is going to force you to take a bodyguard. Goddess knows she’s too old to do it herself, or she would.”

They both giggled, Zelda swatting at Paya’s hands. 

“Speaking of bodyguards…” Zelda looked over her shoulder to Dragmire, who was hanging back by Storm, eying them carefully. She waved him closer, then turned to Paya, winking. “I’ve picked up a stray along my travels.”

Paya blushed furiously but did not hide her face completely: her hands covered her nose and mouth. This was certainly progress, and Zelda made a note that she’d come a long way from the bashful girl she’d met almost three years ago.

As Dragmire approached, still on his horse, Zelda introduced him. “Paya, this is Eldin Dragmire. He’s the Gerudo warrior I told you about a few months ago.”

He dropped off of Aveillar, smiling and nodding in Paya’s direction. “Sav’saaba, Paya. Nice to meet you.”

Although she couldn’t be positive with Paya’s hands covering her mouth, Zelda was fairly sure that Paya’s jaw had dropped. “I… I thought when you wrote that the army would be training with…” She seemed to search for the correct words. “…With the usual Gerudo warriors.”

She focused in on Zelda as she leaned closer to her and hissed, very softly, “You know… Not men.”

Zelda could barely contain her laughter as she put a hand on her dear friend’s shoulder. “No, Paya, Buliara and Teake were far too busy to come out, fierce as they are. They’ve sent Dragmire in their stead.”

She nodded, trying to pull herself together. “Well… It’s very nice to meet you, Dragmire. I’m… I’m sure we’ll get along swimmingly,” she choked out, barely able to look him in the face.

Zelda could see Dragmire puffing up, his ego obviously stroked by Paya’s nervousness around him. She rolled her eyes and got back to business.

“Paya, has the stable been rebuilt?”

Paya nodded, hands still covering her face. “Oh, yes, Zelda, it has. And we have some people tending to it.”

She lead them through the gatehouse and gestured toward the right, then turned and headed up toward the main castle doors once Zelda and Dragmire were moving in the correct direction.

He laughed as they lead the horses toward the stable. 

“What a strange woman,” he started, shaking his head.

Zelda joined him in giggling a little. “She’s not strange, just shy in the company of men.” She thought about it for a moment before adding: “Painfully, painfully shy.”

“You haven’t taught her anything about that?” he asked, his hand reaching out to rest on her shoulder before sliding down her back.

She turned bright red herself and moved away from him, out of his reach. “Hardly. Honestly, a little shyness in the face of men is probably a good thing, especially for a Sheikah warrior.” 

He nodded to her, hand coming to rest by his side. He had a little confusion in his eyes, but it disappeared almost as quickly as she had noticed it. 

They brought their horses to the stables, and Zelda was pleased to find a stablewoman named Jana there with her little sister, Gleema, both of whom she’d met in South Akkala initially. Zelda was charmed by Gleema’s interest in insects and plants, and equally as charmed by Jana’s dedication to her sister despite her aversion to creepy-crawly things. There were a few horses already boarded, and they appeared to be well-cared for. Although Jana looked skeptical at the sight of Aveillar, Dragmire assured her that he would be a relatively easy horse to care for. Zelda made no such guarantee where Storm was concerned, and silently prayed to Hylia that the mare wouldn’t give the girls too much trouble.

They left the stable and Dragmire followed Zelda as she led the way back into the castle. The paths and halls felt so familiar and so foreign at the same time, ceilings high and walls reconstructed in such a way that the average person probably would never have known that there was any damage in the first place. She let her fingertips drag along the walls as they wound through the halls, Dragmire close behind her. 

She found her way to the throne room, somewhat accidentally. She pushed the door open gingerly, stopping two steps inside the room. She looked around, eyes adjusting as the late-day rays of sunlight were dwindling. Banners representing the various regions were hanging from the rafters, alternating with banners toting Hylian colors and the royal crest. She realized, standing in the hall, that the objective she was undertaking was so much larger than she had imagined – there were so many factions to unite – but she also understood that she was in a unique position to achieve it, with the support she’d garnered from the various tribe leaders and new Champions.

As she advanced through the room, her attention was drawn to the front. On a newly built dais, there sat an enormous throne, made of a beautiful dark wood, ornamental carvings gracing the arms and back. The top of the throne was inlaid with a gold triforce, representing the balance a good ruler had to maintain between wisdom, courage, and power.

Her hand covered her mouth as she looked upon it, stopped in her tracks, the weight of her role suddenly apparent. She was about to turn tail and run from the room when she heard a soft, familiar voice behind her.

“Ah, Zelda… You’ve come home.”

She turned, her lips curling into a warm smile. Standing before her was Paya and a tiny woman, dressed in similar grey, maroon, and navy Sheikah clothing. The woman’s hair was less silver and more flat-grey, probably due to her age, and she donned an enormous straw kasa painted with the ever-watchful Sheikah eye. 

Zelda dropped to her knees in front of the old woman, sweeping her hands up in her own. “Impa! It’s good to be home. You’ve done a fantastic job leading the renovations. The castle looks wonderful.”

Impa squeezed her hands, smiling openly to her. She nodded slowly before her gaze drifted to Dragmire, and her face faltered, though her smile stayed the same. If Zelda hadn’t known the woman so well, she might not have caught the change. She made a note in the back of her mind to ask Impa about it later.

“Impa, this is Eldin Dragmire,” she said, standing slowly and stepping back to softly grab Dragmire’s arm and lead him closer to Impa. “He is the warrior Teake sent to help assist with training Hyrule’s new army.”

Impa nodded again, and Zelda realized that she couldn’t read the look on her face.

“Thank you for agreeing to become a part of rebuilding the kingdom, Eldin,” Impa said, her serene tone not quite convincing Zelda that Impa wasn’t wary. 

“It’s my pleasure,” Dragmire said, dropping to a knee in front of Impa, bowing his head briefly. “I hope that we can learn from each other through this process, to be frank.”

Impa was nodding again, sage-like. She suddenly reached out to pick up one of Dragmire’s hands. “I certainly hope that we can, Eldin. I truly do.”

Zelda looked at Paya, who shrugged back at her, clearly as confused by the exchange as Zelda was.

Paya was the first one to break the silence that followed. “Grandmother, it’s getting rather late.”

Impa turned her attention to the windows, assessing the light that was now filtering in. She nodded once more and let go of Dragmire’s hands, reaching for Paya.

“Bolson has completed the guest quarters of the castle, as well as your former rooms, Princess,” she said as Paya wheeled her around toward the door. “The layout is mostly the same as before, so you should be able to find everything. We can discuss next steps further in the morning with the men leading the volunteers.”

Once Impa was gone, Dragmire turned his own attention back to the throne at the front of the room. He looked between the throne and Zelda, lopsided grin gracing his features as he approached it slowly.

“Are you going to sit in it, Princess?”

She rolled her eyes at him, only following him up to the throne in order that he would be supervised in case the wrong person came in. He examined it, making noises of approval in his throat before turning to her.

“Why don’t you have a seat?”

She launched into a blush, shaking her head slowly. “No thank you. I have a feeling that as soon as the coronation is complete, I will be intimately involved with that particular piece of furniture. I have no desire to rush that.”

He chucked softly. “That’s understandable. Then you won’t mind if I…”

Dragmire went to sit on the throne, but was propelled unceremoniously onto his face before he’d been able to settle into it.

Zelda broke out into a savage case of the giggles, as her friend was currently scrambling to sit up. He shot her a look that could set ice aflame, and it only made her laugh harder.

“Like most things,” she said, wiping at tears on her cheeks, “The throne of Hyrule knows it’s master.”

She plopped down onto the floor next to him, her left arm snaking through his right as she felt him relaxing. “I don’t know for a fact that the throne will allow me to sit in it.”

He shook his head. “Of course it will. Why wouldn’t it?”

She sighed, her smile fading just a little bit as she gazed on the throne. “I don’t know that I’ve proven myself to be a worthy ruler yet.”

He scoffed at that, his left hand covering hers over his arm. “Please. First of all, I’m sure it has more to do with blood than anything else,” he started.

She looked at him with an eyebrow raised. 

“Second,” he continued, “You fought the Calamity for 100 years. You gave up an entire century of your life for your people. What could possibly make you worthier than that?”

She sighed, moving her gaze away from him, unwilling to confirm his assertions. Even so, she supposed she couldn’t argue with his logic.

 

Zelda had explored the unoccupied guest quarters with him and set Dragmire up in one of the rooms before heading back to her own rooms. She stood outside the entrance for a long moment before taking a steadying breath and pushing the door open.

She had to leave her quarters twice, overwhelmed, locking the heavy main door behind her as she went in for the third time. Just inside the main door was a door to the right, leading to her bathroom; just ahead were lighter doors behind which was her bedroom. Her furniture was arranged in exactly the same manner as 100 years before: her desk, her book collection, even her bathroom were placed perfectly. She kept shaking her head at various aspects as she moved through the suite, amazed at how Bolson’s crew had managed to get everything right.

She flopped down onto her bed for a moment, trying to figure out if she was tired enough to go to bed. She didn’t think she was and found herself wondering if the tavern was open in town. On the other hand, the bed was so soft. She decided to turn in, promising herself that she would make time to adventure.


	5. Float

She was standing at the wall of the walkway outside of her study, looking down into the courtyard by the first watchtower. The watchtower itself was on fire, the path toward the main castle blocked by debris and rubble. She could hear an infant wailing somewhere nearby and searched the courtyard for the source. Panic started rising in her, as if she was drowning, until her eyes fell on a swaddled bundle in the grass near the watchtower, far too close to the fire. Her heart was in her throat as she realized that she could not reach the child from the walkway, with the courtyard obstructed from either end and the sides inaccessible due to a drop-off ending in frigid water and sharp rocks. 

She caught a glimpse of unmistakable blue and caramel rushing through the smoke out of the watchtower; seeing the Champion tunic quieted her fear enough for her to call out to him.

He skidded to a stop as he reached the edge of the smoke, bending gracefully to take the bundle up in his arms, and moved to the edge of the courtyard. He considered the blocked pathway ahead of him and looked down at the rocks below, then up to her, piercing blue eyes connecting with her own green ones. He gave her a tiny smile, then launched himself off of the edge. The scream tore out of her as she dove off the walkway after them. The last thing she saw were the rocks in the water rushing at her before she –

She sat up in bed, gasping for air, trying desperately to catch her breath. Sharp pain jolted through her back from the sudden change in position. She was drenched, her nightgown clammy and stuck to her skin. She wiped at the cold sweat on her face and started taking stock of all the tangible things that were in the room, forcing herself to be logical: she was in her bedroom in the castle and it was still mostly dark, save for the moonlight filtering in from the windows. The walls were still pristine and solid, her bags on the floor near her desk where she’d left them when she’d come in earlier. 

She swung her feet over the side of the bed, sighing as they hit the cold stone floor. Getting up and stretching gingerly, she headed toward the balcony doors and exited through the right, ignoring the chill she was so familiar with in Hyrule late at night. She leaned against the low wall, her palms pressed to more frigid stone as she looked out toward the Hebra mountains, her mind turning the dream over and over. She dropped her head in her hands, rubbing at her temples.

Why now? Why was it so hard to heal and move on? She took a steadying breath as she forced herself to calm down. On an intellectual level, she knew that people dealt with these kinds of things all the time and weren’t subject to the kinds of meltdowns she was. It was true they probably weren’t also tapped into the same power she was, but the crux of the debilitation was the same, she imagined. 

Thinking back to the dream, she wondered if there was something she was missing, though it seemed to be pretty straight forward. It was not the first time she’d had this dream: occasionally the location was different, but oftentimes it was this same dream. She’d thrown herself off of the top of Shatterback Point in the Zora Domain, the Temple of Time, Rivali’s Landing in Rito Village, and _not one but two_ labyrinths. 

The labyrinth dreams were always her least favorite, not that she enjoyed any of them. She spent the vast majority of the dream trying to determine the direction the crying was coming from before deciding to scale the wall to climb up and out. The weather was always terrible, either freezing or with pouring rain and lightning, and the dream itself seemed longer: by the time she ran for him and the infant, she was so terrified and so keyed up, she was ready to die.

She brought her head back up, resting her chin in her hands. Her heartbeat was mostly back to normal now, and her breathing was almost relaxed enough that she could try to get back to sleep. As she straightened up, movement below caught her eye, just on the edge of her peripheral. She focused in on the area, made out the breeze blowing through some shrubs, but saw nothing else. She started to turn away when the wind picked up and sent an errant plant across the grass: it appeared to be a silent princess, tumbling over itself in the gust. She settled back down to watch it lazily roll across the lawn, the petals almost glittering in the moonlight, wondering where it had come from. When it dropped into the water and floated away, she figured it was as good a time as any to go back to bed.

Just as she was climbing back into bed, she heard a soft knock at the door. It was so quiet, she halted where she was, one foot still on the floor, wondering if her ears were playing tricks on her. When she heard a second, almost hesitant knock a moment later, she reversed course and headed to the door.

She opened the left side slowly, shielded mostly by the right door, to find Dragmire standing there, worried look on his face.

“I-I’m sorry… I hope I didn’t wake you,” he started. He shifted uncomfortably. “I thought… I was wandering, and I thought I heard screaming. It seems silly now, since you’re right here and obviously fine.”

Zelda smiled softly, leaning her head against the edge of the door. “You didn’t wake me at all. Just some dreams, I think, keeping me up. I was just about to get back into bed when you knocked.”

He nodded, face relaxing in the dim light of the hall sconces. “Well, I won’t keep you then. Just checking in.”

She noticed that he wasn’t motioning at all to leave. He stared at her not unpleasantly, calm smile gracing his lips.

_Oh, his lips._

It dawned on her that he was probably waiting to be invited in, which, at the moment, she both was and was not eager to do. It was true that they got along very well, that their banter was enjoyable, and that she felt a deep connection to him after only a short time and a handful of interactions. She realized that she was excited at the prospect of his hands moving along her body again, distracting her from the worries that kept rising in her. However, she also knew that she couldn’t give in to distractions forever and had to face whatever demons were making her so volatile. She couldn’t concentrate with him around, especially if her mind was going to wander to certain recent events that had transpired between them. Moreover, if anyone found him leaving her room in the wee hours of the morning and word got back to Impa, it would be her head. She decided, self-interest be damned, that sleeping by herself tonight would be the right choice.

“Thank you, Dragmire,” she replied, rushing to cover her mouth as she yawned. “I deeply appreciate the looking after, but I believe I’m okay now. As we’re meeting with Impa and the others to go over training and recruitment plans in the morning, I think it would be wise if we both got some sleep.”

He blinked and took a step back, nodding once more, a little deeper this time. “Of course, Princess. I’ll see you in the morning. Sav’orr.” 

“Goodnight,” she said, and closed the door softly.

She exhaled and leaned her forehead against the door before turning around and sliding down to the floor, her back resting against it. She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if there was some way to commit to a life of celibacy publicly to avoid having to make decisions like this.

 

“…and I’m not sure that less than 200 soldiers are going to cut it when thieves start trying to break into the castle in earnest. I don’t know if you’ve seen this place, but it’s huge. There are security issues everywhere.”

She could hear Dragmire border-line yelling as she came into the library. Zelda had overslept and rushed to get ready, donning a dress in blue with white and gold triforce detailing along the skirt and long, tight sleeves that were plain and functional. She’d managed to tame her hair and go from bedraggled to presentable in less than ten minutes, then hurried to the library where the first military overview was taking place without her.

She took in the scene from the top of the stairs: a motley crew of seven were seated around one of the ornate dark-wood tables. The group was comprised of four Sheikah (Impa and Paya among them), Dragmire, and two Hylians. The Hylians appeared to be a few years older than Zelda with dark hair, one with a top knot and the other with a cropped cut. There were papers strewn about the table, including a mark-up of what appeared to be the training grounds and possibly soldiers’ barracks. The seats to the left of the head and the head of the table itself remained open, two Hylians and Dragmire sitting on one side and the Sheikah on the other, with Impa sitting to the right of the head seat.

One of the Sheikah whom Zelda didn’t immediately recognize was red as a radish in the face, sitting across from Dragmire and sputtering to try to get words out. “Security-security issues?! We worked with Bolson directly to address all physical security issues for months. You’ve been here barely twelve hours. I assure you that there aren’t any issues left that would necessitate so many soldiers – we should be able to manage with 70, provided 20 are Sheikah.”

Dragmire let out a mirthless laugh. “Let’s start with just this room, then, shall we?”

He pushed his chair back forcefully, and strode over to the bookcase behind him. Grabbing the handles of a section with cabinet doors, he pulled and the entire piece moved forward. He dragged it out and set it aside, revealing a stone passageway. 

Wheeling around to the group, he held out a hand. “Would you not consider this to be a security issue?”

The Sheikah he’d been arguing with started faltering for something to say, jumping to his feet.

“I might consider it a fine way to sneak out of the castle, were I a child and not permitted to leave,” Zelda interjected, humor lacing her words. 

All heads snapped to her and suddenly everyone was standing, save for Impa, who smiled serenely and nodded in her direction.

She floated down the stairs, taking her place behind the seat at the head of the table, and motioned for them all to settle back down.

“I apologize for my tardiness,” she began, sitting and turning her attention to Dragmire. “Please, Dragmire, if you would proceed.”

Impa reached and patted her hands as she folded them on the table. She leaned over and whispered, “To your left are Falmark and Brigo. You may not remember them, but on the other side of Paya are Thoma and Olkin.”

Zelda nodded, turning her attention back to the discussion. 

“All I’m trying to say,” Dragmire said, fighting to keep his composure, “is that Hyrule Castle is a massive complex that requires a lot of personnel. You can’t expect the guard to be everywhere all at once for days on end. We need to have enough soldiers that they can work in reasonable shifts.”

The Hylians nodded in agreement. “A distracted or tired sentry is no good to anyone,” Brigo stated plainly. “And the Hylians that we are expecting to enlist have never maintained a role as a soldier before. Honestly, none of us have. Though they may have experience protecting themselves, this is a very different set of expectations as it’s been presented.”

“If we have an opportunity to stave off unnecessary liabilities, we should take it,” Zelda replied. “The fact of the matter is that we are building from scratch. If a well-oiled guard would be made up of 200 troops, then that is what we should be aiming for.” She looked at Dragmire and addressed him. “You believe 200 will cover it.”

Dragmire took a breath and blew it out intentionally before nodding. “I believe we can comfortably cover the grounds, interior, and Castle Town’s entrances with 200. The guard should have a presence in the surrounding towns, if only to be able to relay back to the castle should something happen.”

“Things certainly seem to be safer,” Zelda said. “But once the castle is filled with staff and their families and the town is bustling, I would feel better knowing that we’re prepared for what dangers do still exist.”

Thoma and Olkin glanced at each other but kept their faces blank for the most part. 

“Where do you expect to find 200 volunteers for the Hylian guard? Especially considering the fates of the guard from 100 years ago,” Thoma asked.

“More and more Hylians are returning all the time,” Zelda replied, stifling the urge to bristle at his tone. “I’ve heard from a few contacts along the eastern shores that the sons and daughters of displaced families are eager to come back to the kingdom.”

She didn’t think it would quite get them to 200, but she had heard over the course of the last few months from Rozel in Lurelin, Prima in Hateno, Hudson in Tarrey Town, and Rudi from the East Akkala Stable about the influx of people they were seeing. 

Brigo nodded in agreement. “The Hylians I’ve come across in my own travels are bound to head this way once word of the Castle Town renovations becomes more widespread. As it is, about forty and their families have cropped up and are staying in town just in the last three weeks.”

“One of them took up in the bakery. Fantastic bread, your highness,” Falmark said.

Zelda smiled in earnest at that, felt lighter at the idea that they might just pull this rebuild off and repopulate the town at that.

At least, Zelda felt lighter until her eyes came to rest on Thoma and Olkin, still exchanging meaningful glances and quiet comments with each other while taking turns glaring at Dragmire. What hope she had been feeling was suddenly replaced with irritation.

She intended to gloss over the childish behavior, preparing to move on to exactly who they would appoint to lead the guard long-term, when Thoma said something under his breath that garnered quite the reaction from his counterpart.

Olkin snorted. “…Wouldn’t be discussing a guard of 200 if the Hylians or Gerudo could be expected to be as effective at protecting the crown as the Sheikah.”

Zelda’s jaw actually dropped, and she stared in disbelief at the man’s comment for a second before hell broke loose. Dragmire, Falmark, and Brigo were on their feet, yelling in a mix of Hylian and Gerudo. From every third word Zelda could make out, it seemed to be about the Sheikah’s tendency toward elitism. Paya’s hands flew to her face as her fellow Sheikah, save for Impa, also stood and started shouting back about the failings of both races in the past. Impa looked at Zelda and just shook her head. 

After taking in the scene for a moment longer, Zelda took to her feet as well and slammed her fists on the table. _“Enough!”_ she shouted, triforce on the back of her hand shimmering as she lost her patience completely, met immediately with silence. “You can’t treat each other this way. Our whole mission is to avoid-” she gestured wildly to the room, trying to find a word for it. _“This!”_

They looked at her in shock, Dragmire stiffening while Olkin inhaled sharply.

She sighed and sat back down slowly, folding and glancing down at her hands, the glow of the triforce melting away as she calmed. “If you can’t be polite towards each other here,” she said softly, “where the stakes are low and we have time to work out disagreements civilly, we will never be able to unite and grow.”

They settled back into their chairs, Dragmire crossing his arms and aiming a glare at the Sheikah men. 

“We are here to work towards the safety of the Hylian people and those who come into the kingdom to live and work – safety of the crown is secondary to that,” Zelda began again. “It’s a lofty goal for sure, especially considering the potential we have to be welcoming to all. But it has to start here. I will not stand for another outburst during these planning sessions or elsewhere, so I would recommend that you all watch your comments.”

She looked at Olkin and Thoma as she said that, then glanced toward Dragmire to see that he looked like the cat who ate the canary. 

“…And your tone,” she added, raising an eyebrow at him. Dragmire unfolded his arms, face serious again, and nodded.

Impa just looked oddly amused.

 

They were able to develop a robust recruitment plan over the next few hours without anyone at the table sniping at one another. It was decided that Falmark would carry word of the recruitment efforts and call in those looking for either work in the kingdom or a position with the guard, while Dragmire and Thoma began training the recruits already in the surrounding town, whom Brigo would begin assembling at the castle the following morning. Olkin had left the meeting in a huff not long after Zelda got them back on track, possibly in response to Zelda’s serious consideration of Brigo’s position that the armaments absolutely necessary to begin training were shields, where Olkin argued that training was useless if recruits weren’t working with swords or spears from the outset.

By the time they broke, it was late in the afternoon. Dragmire, Thoma, and Paya planned to leave for the training grounds to work out logistics and to clear out the bokoblins that were rumored to have set up there. Thoma believed it might take a few days, so the three departed to pack. Brigo and Falmark disappeared to make travel preparations for the following day to bring in those they could find.

Zelda sat for a moment in the empty library with Impa once the rest of the group had dispersed. Impa had been rather quiet, with the exception of positing who would ultimately lead the Hyrulian army once the troops had been gathered and trained. 

“Well done,” Impa said, gentle smile on her face.

Zelda shook her head, rolling her eyes and collapsing onto the table in front of her, leaning forward in her chair with her arms folded and head dropped on them. “Hardly.”

Impa chuckled softly, patting her arm. “You reminded me of your mother.”

She turned her face to look up at the sagely woman, and felt her expression soften from one of self-critique. “Did I?”

She nodded again. “Without question. Unfortunately, many of the duties you are responsible for will involve uniting men who don’t see eye to eye. Your mother was excellent at reining in those varied personalities, and she couldn’t always do it by being sweetness and light.”

Zelda smiled, sitting back up. “Well, that’s good news at least. It’s nice to know that I’m scarcely the only woman to have to play mother in a military meeting.”

At that, Impa laughed full-out, shaking her head. “Oh, no, certainly not. And you will scarcely be the last, Goddess willing.”

She couldn’t help but giggle along with the old woman. Her mind started to wander to future queens and her potential lineage, but she stopped herself before she could dive too much into it mentally. She couldn’t stop the deep frown from settling into her features and Impa sobered along with her.

“What is it? Are you still having visions?”

Zelda shook her head slowly, dropping her gaze to her hands. “Not visions, just dreams… But it’s not that.”

Impa made a noncommittal noise in her throat and gestured for her to continue.

“It’s just… How do I say this delicately?” Zelda sighed heavily before leaning into the table, leveling a sad look at Impa. “I’m not physically the same as I was before the Calamity… and I don’t know if there will be another woman after me to preside over these things. Not of my blood or lineage, anyway.”

Impa’s eyes widened just a little before crinkling at the corners from a gentle smile. “Many things have not returned to the way they were before the Calamity,” she offered. “And some may never be the same again. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.”

“But to not produce heirs… What consort would agree to something like that?”

“Well…” Impa began, eyes full of mischief. “Hylia has her ways. If you chose that path, you would not be the first Zelda to reign without a consort, nor the first to raise an heir that was not your own.”

She blinked at that and tilted her head. “Really? I’ve never read about any of those queens… Our documentation says nothing about that, and it goes back hundreds of generations.”

Impa continued. “Sheikah records are much older than what is kept in the castle by the royal family, and they tend to be a little more detailed regarding attributes of the families we’ve protected and watched over. There have been several queens to rule without consort, raising heirs on their own, and there have been a handful who have adopted and brought their heirs into the fold by choice with Hylia’s guidance. Don’t think for a minute that your body not cooperating would prevent you from continuing the line.”

Zelda nodded, turning this piece of information over in her mind. 

“I will… I will have to give this some thought, obviously, but it’s very good to know.”

After a moment of silence, Impa grinned. “I have to ask… Do you have a certain candidate in mind for consort?”

Zelda turned bright red, covering her face with her best Paya impression. “Impa! That’s hardly – of course – when would I even have time?”

Impa’s laugh rang out again, and Zelda found herself following suit, laughing until her stomach hurt. Once they both sobered, the sagely old woman left Zelda to her own devices in the library. 

When she was quite sure she was alone, Zelda got up and went to the doorway opened by Dragmire when he’d removed the false bookcase. She stepped through into the cave on the other side, regretting her choice of attire for the day almost immediately. Pulling her dress out of the way, she descended down the tunnel slowly, following the sound of water and finding herself more excited the closer she got. When she reached the end of the tunnel, she was delighted to find a Sheikah shrine and made a note to herself to examine it later. Instead of stopping, she moved down the stairs towards the docks themselves, avoiding the rubble still left in piles here and there along her route.

Once she had reached the bottom of the stairs, she sat at the edge of the pier, removing her shoes and hiking her skirt up to drop her feet into the frigid water. She wriggled her toes as they acclimated, looking around her at the high stone and relishing in the cavernous feel of the place after being shut in the library for the bulk of the day. 

She laid back and closed her eyes, letting her body sink into the stone, acutely aware of the bruising along her back. It would take days, if not weeks, to heal, but she found she enjoyed letting her body work in its own time now and again. She tried to focus on the sound of water lapping against stone in an effort to clear her mind. Her breathing slowed as she relaxed, and after a few minutes, she steered her thoughts to the day’s events, Dragmire chief among them.

It seemed strange to her that he was treated differently by the Sheikah: Thoma, Cado, and Dorian had been so wary of his presence, Olkin was clearly unable to keep a level head around him, and even Impa had been more guarded with him than she ever had been with Urbosa or any other Gerudo. Paya was the sole exception, but Zelda was sure Paya’s good nature and natural bashfulness around non-Sheikah men was winning out. 

She began to mull over the question Impa had circled to in their talks. If she had been tasked with finding a general for the Hyrulian guard 100 years ago, she would have had no doubts regarding who should be installed. The legendary sword had chosen him, and he had proven himself time and again to be both a fierce warrior and a marvel at working with people. She had refused to say his name aloud after releasing him from her service and worked hard not to think it directly, as it felt like reopening a fresh wound each time she did.

Were Dragmire Hylian, she would be a fool not to establish him as general; but the fact of the matter was that he was only out on loan from the Gerudo, and she had a feeling they would be anxious to get one of their finest soldiers back. She grinned a little at that and couldn’t help but feel honored that they would send him in Teake’s place. 

Her face faltered a little as she considered Impa’s other question: that of consort. Again, there was only one man she would have remotely considered before the Calamity, not that it would have been her choice at that time to even think it. In the intervening years, she had worked very hard to push most men away, save for Dragmire, who hadn’t allowed her to. His not being Hylian was certainly a complicating factor, as, again, she was sure the Gerudo would not be willing to let him go. 

She realized, quite suddenly, that thinking about him made the ever-present pain in her heart ache less.

“I’m glad I came down here before moving the bookcase back into place.”

Zelda jumped, her eyes flying open to see Dragmire standing over her with a most amused expression.

She clutched her chest, glaring at him, cursing herself for thinking about him. “For the love of Hylia, try not to sneak up on me like that!”

She sat up and at swatted at his leg as he extended a hand to help her up. She took it, withdrawing her feet from the water and shaking them off before stepping into her shoes.

“I wasn’t trying to,” he offered, lopsided smile letting her know he would not be apologizing as he gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “I’m honestly surprised you didn’t hear me coming.”

Zelda shook her head and smiled now that her heartbeat was coming back down to normal. “I suppose I was lost in thought.”

He nodded and tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, leading her toward the stairs. She thought better of it for a moment, before deciding that it was innocent enough. She saw that he had donned a black metal chest plate with matching gauntlets, and she furrowed her brow.

“I was under the impression that there were only a few bokoblins to clear out,” she started. “You look like you’re ready for full-on war.”

He hummed to her as they ascended. “Paya climbed up to the top of the castle to scout, just to be sure, and it appears that there are more than we thought, in addition to a few moblins and lizalfos. It’s not much more to worry about, but I’m not interested in taking any chances.”

Zelda stopped him at the top of the stairs in front of the shrine, turning to face out toward the water as her other hand came up to rest on his forearm. “I appreciate your caution. Thoma is quite skilled, and Paya is one of the most aggressive archers I’ve ever met, so I’ve no doubt the three of you will be fine.” She looked up at him, gentle smile on her face. “…All the same, I appreciate it.”

He smiled back at her and started moving toward the staircase to the library. “Of course, Zelda. It’s my prerogative to come back in one piece.”

“As it is mine. Do you really think I want to break the news to Teake that I won’t be returning you as you left?” She winked as they reached the library and she disengaged herself from his arm.

He laughed, moving the bookcase back into place. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t.”

Looking up at the windows in the library, she saw that the sun had set. Torches had been lit by the skeleton crew already hired in the castle, and the soft glow seemed to be absorbed by Dragmire’s armor.

His face sobered as he turned and looked down at her. “I have to meet Paya and Thoma at the stable. We shouldn’t be gone more than two or three days, and once we return, we should be able to start bringing volunteers to the training grounds.”

She nodded, trying to fix her expression into something impassive but failing. “Be safe.”

She knew he recognized the worry on her face as he reached up to touch her cheek carefully. The metal of his gauntlet was cold, but she was glad for the gesture and inclined toward his touch. He dropped to one knee in front of her, meeting her eye to eye. “I will, Princess.” 

With that, he leaned in and kissed her, his free arm wrapping around her waist carefully to pull her close. Her hands slid across his neck until she could bury her fingers in his hair, her lips moving along his until she felt like her lungs might burst. She kept her face close to his despite breaking the kiss, staring down his golden eyes, breathing him in as he held her tightly. Snaking her fingers down his neck, she rested her hands on his shoulders.

“I’ll be here, so...” She grinned. “You’d better.”


	6. The Grind

The following day was full of distractions, beginning with a trip to the kitchen not long after daybreak. A man of average height and with a kind face named Gotter was running it with a Sheikah assistant named Koko who could not have been much older than 10 if Zelda had to guess. Gotter confided in Zelda that he was elated to have access to the surviving royal cookbooks and the new space, as cooking had been a passion of his for his whole life. He had sent some carrot soup up to Zelda the night before, and she wanted to meet the chef that had given her a new appreciation for the vegetable. She found him to be enthusiastic and accommodating as he put together a plate of quiche with peppers and cheese, accompanied by roasted potatoes seasoned liberally with hyrule herb and salt.

After polishing off the plate and politely rebuffing Gotter’s attempt to send her away with a basket of muffins, Zelda headed to the main castle gate to meet Brigo and Cado, and the recruits Brigo had collected from Castle Town. Zelda welcomed them, thanking them for their decision to enlist. She praised the team they were working with and wished them well in their training before turning the reigns over to Brigo and Cado for callisthenic training and departed.

She met Bolson at the stable, who had asked to walk the grounds with her to go over the renovations. She took the opportunity to tell him how happy she was with the work he and his team had done, and the speed with which they were able to do it. As they walked, Bolson explained some long-term ideas he had been mulling over for expansion to the castle grounds: specifically, building new quarters for diplomats from the other regions, reasoning that if her mission was to unite the continent, offering top-notch accommodations would be a good place to start.

He brought her through each part of the castle they had worked on in order for him to detail what had been done so far. As they meandered through the castle, Zelda could feel her heart swelling at the care he and his team had taken to put the castle back together. 

Once they had gone over what was completed, they sat in the kitchen to go over remaining projects. Zelda let him know about the docks, and how a new, secure entrance needed to be installed and the old pathway, much to her disappointment, needed to be closed off. It made sense to her, and Bolson agreed, that the area around the docks should be considered for Zora suites. The observation tower in the main castle was the last spire left to be reconstructed, so she suggested changing course to design rooms with the Rito in mind. Bolson agreed to review the existing structures to find suitable places to build new rooms and suites for the Gerudo and Gorons. 

Zelda left the meeting with Bolson feeling light hearted despite the late hour. The only areas that they hadn’t toured were her own suite and her study. She played it off as if she was overjoyed with both, and in truth, she was over the moon with her own quarters. However, she’d yet to venture into her study. She assumed that Bolson’s crew had cleaned it out and put it back the way it had been. If their tour had illustrated nothing else for her, it was Bolson’s ability to see stories in architecture and to read the bones of a place to recreate it. 

After a brief pit stop in her room to pick up a few notebooks, she found herself standing in the doorway below her quarters, looking across the walkway toward the door to her study. She needed to get in there to access treasury records and begin balancing the books. It had only been a stroke of luck that the Calamity had demolished the entrance to the vaults, and while they hadn’t been able to be accessed prior to Bolson’s work for him to be paid right away, they also hadn’t been able to be accessed by looters. She’d kept track of everything they’d paid out so far in a separate leger and needed to consolidate the two. 

Even so, she shifted her weight from foot to foot, hugging the books to her chest, stomach twisted in knots. She had spent so much time in her study trying to evade the inevitable, so much time under the watchful gaze of her knight. The last time she had sat in her study had been before her trip to the Spring of Wisdom, just before the bottom fell out of her entire world and all of her nightmares were realized. 

“You can’t avoid these things forever, Zelda.”

She jumped and almost dropped the books, shaken out of her reverie by Impa, who had appeared just behind her. Zelda picked up her books, offering a small smile to her mentor and one-time protector.

“I know. I truly do… I’m just not sure I’m ready.”

Impa tilted her head, considering her words as Zelda moved back from the doorway, and they began walking down the hallway side by side. “You have to find things in your own time. What makes you think that you aren’t ready?”

Zelda remained quiet as they continued back to her quarters. Impa waited for her answer, following her in and climbing into a wingback chair in her sitting area as Zelda dropped the supplies she had collected earlier onto the table between the chairs. 

She collapsed into the chair opposite Impa. She’d been dreading this conversation. “I… I had another …episode… on the way back to the castle…”

_Another._ She felt her cheeks burning with shame.

After recuperating in Hateno Village, she and her appointed knight made their way to Kakariko Village. Having been safely delivered to Impa and the Sheikah, she released him from her service. She had her first meltdown that evening, resulting in a ruined second floor of Impa’s home. Zelda had been trying to sleep upstairs alone when she broke down; she hadn’t realized that her emotions had manifested in such a destructive way. 

Impa chalked it up to nerves, initially, but after the third incident, Impa had gently offered to start working on meditation techniques with her that would help her derail her thought pattern enough to calm down. It consisted of identifying and naming (sometimes physically, but mostly mentally) her surroundings, focusing in on the tangible. She was supposed to move through the process each day, practicing so that when she felt herself coming undone, she could stop herself. In addition, she was supposed to be getting enough sleep and ordering her thinking.

She hadn’t made time for either of those things.

After a moment, to Zelda’s surprise, Impa shrugged. “I know. Dragmire thought it wise to tell me before he left.”

She rolled her eyes, willing herself not to blush. Of course he had.

“He thinks very highly of you and is…” She searched for the word for a moment. “Concerned. I don’t know what you said to him or the other Gerudo, but they are all pulling for you to restore Hyrule to its former glory… To surpass it.”

Zelda nodded, somewhat speechless before looking down at her hands, fingers fidgeting, mind turning over this information loudly, frantically. Who else had he told? Was he concerned enough to tell Riju? Would she tell the other heads of state? Did he think less of her? Did Impa think less of her for not broaching the subject herself or being able to rely on the meditation techniques she’d shared?

She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut, willing her brain to slow down. 

“It’s… overwhelming. One would think that I could handle others’ hopes being pinned on me after all I’ve been through, but I keep thinking that I’m going to fall apart. Dragmire was –” she mulled over an accurate description “– was discreet about the whole thing, so it could have been worse. Not everyone would have been so understanding.” 

She sighed deeply before dropping her hand and turning her gaze back to Impa’s face. “I just keep wondering if this is something I can control, or if the next outburst will happen in front of the wrong people. I feel like some unskilled child, even after all this time.”

Impa nodded empathetically. She stayed silent for a few long moments before her gaze softened, eyes smiling into Zelda’s.

“Unfortunately, it sounds as if you have your own trials ahead, at the very least to find your confidence when you’re alone, and your peace of mind… Because when you’re addressing others, be it here or in the other realms, you carry yourself much differently,” she offered. “It’s perplexing to me, but then… It’s thought that the demons we carry within us are the hardest to battle.”

Zelda blew a breath out and rubbed her forehead. 

Impa put a gentle hand on Zelda’s knee. “I’m sure you have all of the tools within you to sort this out, in the same way you had all of the tools to deliver this world from the Calamity. It all goes back to training… and practice. Maybe approach it in the same way when you’re less tired and anxious.” 

She hummed in agreement and squeezed Impa’s hand before the sagely woman withdrew. They sat in a silence for a few moments before Zelda thought of something else.

“I wanted to ask…” She hedged, eyes dropping to her hands again. “I felt like there was… Is there a history between the Sheikah and Gerudo that I’ve not been privy to?”

She couldn’t help but be direct. Between the prior day’s screaming match and the initial icy reception from Cado, Dorian, and Impa herself, she felt like she needed to address it. 

Impa’s face stayed soft. “Hyrule has a very, very long history, and the people inhabiting it have had their ups and downs. Old wounds are the hardest to heal.”

She nodded slowly, mulling it over.

“The Gerudo were instrumental in the battle against the Calamity… Wouldn’t that generate some goodwill?” Her brow furrowed as she wracked her brain. “I’ve never read or felt any animosity toward the Gerudo. If anything, Urbosa was…” She sighed, heart aching for her lost confidant. “…Well, I don’t have to tell you that we were close. And Riju and I have really taken a liking to each other.” 

“Things are much different now than they were,” Impa said, face serious. “Without a doubt. Your relationship with the Gerudo is very much evidence of that. There are many things about the Sheikah that I haven’t shared, and I imagine I will at some point soon – when there is time for history lessons.” Her gentle smile spread slowly across her face again. “But for now, you have a few more pressing things to attend to. Starting with sleep.”

She could concede that point, shrugging before returning her smile as Impa stood to leave. “Then we’ll have to discuss it at another time. But don’t think I’ll forget.”

Impa nodded in response, then patted Zelda’s knee gently and shuffled out. 

There were times in her childhood where she and Impa had been able to have a conversation that was light-hearted. Those days felt long-forgotten now, as every conversation was weighty and serious. And rushed. 

Zelda sat for a few more moments by the fire, turning over her anxieties in her mind before deciding to call it a night.

 

Zelda kept hearing voices in her ears as she nodded off. Unable to either remember what was being said or discern it, she kept shaking herself awake in response.

After the sixth or seventh disturbance, she made her way to the balcony, exiting left, and leaned against the wall, looking out as she had done the night before, this time towards Hyrule Ridge. Slowly, she knelt and rested her forehead on her hands along the stone, taking a deep breath and centering herself. She hadn’t prayed to Hylia since before the Calamity, and she wasn’t necessarily intending to now. Hylia herself had given her strength while she halted Calamity Ganon’s destruction, and although she imagined that, to Hylia, 100 years was more a rounding error than any expense of her time, she was determined not to ask the Goddess for anything more. She had helped Zelda deliver her land safely from certain destruction, and that was enough.

In any case, she worked at clearing her mind. She pushed a breath out, trying to push the knot in her stomach out along with it. No such luck.

She chased threads of anxiety, trying to follow her thoughts down the paths they were prone to taking on their own. She felt most troubled by thoughts of her formerly-appointed knight out in the world ( _Goddess only knew where_ ) and whether he was safe or happy, volleying with thoughts of Paya, Thoma, and Dragmire and whether they’d been successful in clearing out the training grounds. 

Zelda let the thoughts volley for purchase in her mind back and forth for a little longer before taking a deep breath and changing tactics, deciding that she was probably doomed to be miserable any time those closest to her left the castle toward something dangerous. 

She re-created the skyline in her mind’s eye, slowly scanning the horizon from her balcony from the north through the west, only moving along once she had imagined each hill and tree. She crawled along until she glanced over a shimmering green light emanating from a rather innocuous mountain. 

She had physically been there once while traveling but had been less than impressed. The mountain itself was home to a Sheikah shrine, and she had been miffed that she could not access it, like all the others, even while in the presence of her protector and his legendary sword. She had been frustrated, cold, and, to be honest, creeped out by both the sheer volume of black crows that populated the hillside and heavy silence save for those black birds. The silence put her on edge, especially. Even on the highest mountains in the Hebra region, with some of the deepest snow muffling most sounds, there was some sort of ambient animal noise in addition to the sound of the wind reminding her that all was as it should be.

Not this particular hillside during their visit. The silence in between crow chatter was deafening. Although not much at the time made her uneasy while she was in the presence of her assigned guard, she was loathe to admit that this place gotten to her.

On this side of the calamity, however, she knew better. Following that faint green glow, she came to a glade with a softly running pond and beautiful cherry blossom tree. Now, in her mind, she settled at the base of the tree, looking out over the pond at the small animals that milled about. These beings – blupees – with bodies like rabbits, faces like owls with soft red eyes, and ears that looked like laurels, were the source of the glowing, and although they appeared to be more blue than green, an observer could not argue that they gave off their own light. She laughed watching them play in the pond, chase each other, and flop over in the grass to sun themselves. 

Zelda sat very still as these little creatures ran nearby her: a brazen one seemed to see her and perch on its hind legs to assess her. After a few minutes of staring her down, it must have decided she posed no threat, as it lay down across her feet, stretched over her. She stifled a giggle. It was light and soft, giving off a warmth as gentle as its glow.

This had been a place of rest for her in the hundred years that she had worked at keeping the calamity at bay. She hadn’t been able to focus on this place for more than a few moments at a time, but those moments had renewed her strength at times when she most needed it. She couldn’t know for sure if it was because of the magic of this place or if it was simply a pocket of light in a century of darkness; she found that she was just grateful for knowing it existed.

Now that she had time, she watched petals fall slowly from the tree and float in the pond below. She let her eyes wander slowly over the rock-facings and vegetation, taking in each blade of grass, the tell-tale leaves of endura carrots and fat radishes. Not far from her at the base of the tree grew a few of her favorite flowers, giving off their own glow under the moonlight. 

Her gaze was drawn back to the blupee cozying up to her as he hopped up to her hand and pushed the top of his head into it. She laughed, scratching him in the ear-area. He flopped onto his back and she rubbed his belly while he wiggled in the grass. She sighed, content for a moment, until the funny creature hopped up suddenly, alert, staring toward the pond.

Zelda followed his attention to the middle of the pond, where an enormous beast (she wasn’t sure if she could say he was more stag or stallion), glowing like the blupees, walked into the pond out of midair. Although his body was mostly facing away from her as he bent to drink from the pond, she noticed that his flank carried faint orange markings that she swore she had seen before. This had to be the mountain’s namesake.

It took her a minute, but she realized the swirling orange along the satori’s hide looked oddly like the Sheikah designs adorning most of their technology. She made a mental note to look into this once she had some time to devote to the library. 

He raised his head slowly, shaking his mane and laurel-antlers. He turned his four red eyes toward her, acknowledging her but unafraid. She imagined that he knew she was little more than a shadow, much in the same way the blupee beside her did. Zelda smiled and bowed her head slowly to him.

He took a tentative step toward her, then dropped his face back to the water to drink again. Although the satori’s sudden appearance had startled the blupee next to her, he was quick to settle back down, curling up into a ball against her hip. 

Zelda relaxed into the tree, leaning her head back. If she couldn’t sleep, at least she could unwind here. Her attention was split between the stars burning overhead and the small companion snoozing next to her.

She let her thoughts wander back to the night before. Who did she think she was to be so suddenly withdrawn toward Dragmire upon returning home to the castle, only to steal his kisses when no one was around?

On the other hand, what other arrangement did she know how to facilitate? She had hardly any experience in romance, save for a few books on the topic she had read through long ago and a few glancing moments in the wild. If she was a professional at anything, it was swallowing back feelings. She was adept with words so often, but here, she floundered. And it felt as if she had always floundered. 

Even so, Dragmire seemed unfazed by her pulling away only to come back. He seemed so unfazed by everything, save for the Sheikah, which seemed odd to her. If she had been prone to praying on this side of the calamity, she would have asked the goddesses for even an ounce of his confidence. 

A twig snapped across the pond, breaking her out of her thoughts and drawing her attention to the empty path. The blupees, including the little one beside her, sat up on their hind legs, their focus pointed in the same area. The satori continued to drink, unperturbed, and after a moment without any apparent movement or additional sound, the blupees relaxed themselves.

Zelda, however, swept her gaze across the area methodically, looking for the source of the disturbance, her eyes coming to rest on a wisp of a bush. She squinted, trying to see if the darkness concealed a hunter. She wouldn’t be of any use physically, but she could warn the magical creatures inhabiting the wood if needed.

It was several long moments before a figure slid out from behind the bush, so slowly and silently she would have missed it if she weren’t already looking in that area. Zelda’s eyes went wide as the mark emblazoned on the chest of the lurker’s shirt registered to her as being Sheikah. As her focus traveled up, she recognized the blue eyes and sandy top knot. Her stomach dropped, and she stopped breathing altogether.

He slunk, cat-like, against the wall of rock next to him, attention fixed on the satori. She sat, frozen, as he moved around the periphery of the glade, silent and unnoticed by blupees. The satori, however, rotated calmly along with his movements, red eyes tracking him but showing no other outward signs of worry.

Zelda’s breath came back to her in quick, shallow bursts as he headed toward her. His focus, as he came around the bend, had shifted to _her_ , she realized in abject horror. She began willing, _begging_ her heart to slow down and not beat quite so loudly. 

The blupee against her hip rolled over suddenly, back paws in the air and exposing his stomach to her. Her eyes flicked down to him for just a second, before bouncing back up to his eyes.

She searched them for any kind of recognition before relaxing just a little bit when she didn’t see any there. Just when she was sure he would disturb the lounging blupee pressed against her, he diverted to her right and snuck behind the tree, coming around to sit to her left, the cluster of silent princesses between them. He let his head drop back against the tree, his hand passing slowly back and forth over the flowers absently. After a few moments, she peeked around to see if his eyes were closed and was struck by the lightening horizon.

_I wish I could enjoy this with you,_ she thought. Her heart was still pounding in her ears and the knot in her stomach hadn’t eased yet when she turned fully to him, disengaging from the blupee gently. She reached out to graze his cheek with her fingers. _I wish… I wish this were real…_

He whipped toward her, as if he’d felt her touch him. The sudden movement startled her and she fell backwards on her heels on the balcony at the castle, the wind knocked out of her. 

Zelda sat for a moment on the stone, dazed, blinking as her eyes came into focus in her new surroundings. Her pulse was still racing, and she felt nauseous. Her mind was buzzing.

_He’s alive. He’s alive and he’s traveling. Thin, but he’s okay. He’s okay. He’s okay._

She was overcome in that moment, her mind repeating the same refrain again and again ( _He’s okay._ ) until she tried to take a deep breath and was choked with a sob. She pulled her knees up against her chest and let the tears come, feeling an unbelievable weight and loss settling in her. She buried her face in her arms, trying to muffle the sound, feeling ridiculous. 

After allowing herself a few minutes of hysterics, she steeled herself against the storm of self-doubt and deprecation raging inside her. She acknowledged that no one was coming to change her frame of mind and resolved to do it herself, struggling past the chiding voice inside to remember the coping techniques she had worked through with Impa. 

She focused only on her broken breathing until it became more regular and even, and the tears died away. Telling herself to relax her jaw, she did, unaware of how tightly she’d been clenching it until it was fully relaxed. She raised her head to take stock of her surroundings now that her emotions were more reined in. It had been hours since she first knelt to clear her mind, despite it feeling like only minutes, and the sun was already peeping well above the horizon line. 

A mirthless chuckle slipped out of her as she realized the amount of time that had obviously gotten away from her, her old prayer, focus, and compartmentalization habits creeping up on her without trying. Wiping her wet cheeks and taking one more calming breath, she pulled herself up to her feet and stretched, meltdown over almost as soon as it had started and with less collateral damage.

Zelda headed back into her room and considered the bed for a minute before shifting her gaze to the writing desk in her room and the stack of books and papers there, just waiting to be brought to her study to be officially filed. Despite the tightness in her chest, or maybe because of it, she abandoned her ideas of going back to bed in lieu of getting some work done.


End file.
